White flowers
by ThegardenofWords
Summary: A meeting of two emotionally troubled souls. Colin x Gabrielle as adults.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

 **The girl** was watching the sunset alone when he saw her at the park. She was sitting on a swing set, rocking back and forth slowly, a reminiscent look on her face. She had silvery straight hair that swayed and danced in the autumn sunset breeze. Large blue eyes stared at the orange sky, seemingly focused on it and nothing else.  
It seemed as if she was lost in thought. He thought he saw her smile slightly, her lips curving upwards. Then her eyes turned melancholy, and the curve of her mouth seemed to use more effort holding itself up. She continued to stare at the sunset, not noticing him. He was momentarily rooted to his spot, almost stunned by her beauty. He wondered what scene was playing in her mind's eye. He then realized that it was rude to stare. He shook himself out of his trance quickly and continued to walk past her on his way home. She never saw him pass by.


	2. Colin

" _My son, charm is deceptive and beauty is fleetin_ g" . His mother spoke soothingly as he sat on her lap. He looked up at her face, and felt comforted by her smile. He felt safe in her arms. She smiled at him, a gentle easy smile which made him feel as if he would very much like to stay on her lap for a while longer. He looked into her eyes and wondered why they were suddenly red. Then her nails grew longer and sharper. Her pale white skin turned green and scaly. Her hair grew longer and longer. Cockroaches began to appear from the top of her head and crawl across her skin. She suddenly showed her teeth, and her smile became deranged as the teeth seemed to enlarge and become fangs. She grabbed his neck as he screamed with terror. _The monster had come for him_. He wondered why he could not feel her sharp nails piercing his throat, and why no blood was spilling from his neck.

Suddenly he was falling and falling into the void.

Colin Creevey awoke with a start on his bed. It had not been real. He took several moments to regain himself, staring up at the white ceiling and telling himself it was all a dream. He rubbed his eyes and realized that it was 7:00. Today was a workday. He had work to do at the agency. He slowly stood up then went to sit down at his desk. There was an envelope near his lamp containing that he had not been able to read yet. It was from a certain Ginny Weasley. It was a thank-you note for his work as their wedding photographer two days ago.

He took the letter out and began reading:

Dear Colin:

Thank you so much for your work as a photographer at our wedding! You did a wonderful job. The photos were amazing. You really have a knack for angles. Harry said he could not believe how low the price you charged was. You really helped us make our wedding a memorable one.

Love,

Ginny

Colin smiled as he read the letter. He had offered his services (which were quite coveted in the Wizarding World), to Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley at a graciously low price. He thought that it would be a good favor to give to Harry, who had always been quite nice to him at Hogwarts even though Colin had basically chased him around with a camera during Harry's second year at the school. Colin cringed slightly when he remembered how starstruck he was at the Boy-Who-Lived, making sure to take a photo of every what seemed like every move that Harry had ever made. "If it was me being chased around like that," he thought, " I don't think I would have been so nice". One other plus was that Ginny Weasley had pulled out all the stops to look more beautiful than he had ever seen her at Hogwarts. She was simply radiant on that day, in a relatively simple white wedding dress, her hair and makeup well done. Even Harry looked like he couldn't believe his good fortune. Colin had been pleased to photograph her, and took extra care to make sure that the shots he took emphasized her beauty. This was his job today, and he took pride in being able to capture moments like this when people looked their best.

He put the letter back back into the envelope and made a mental note to reply to them that it had been his privilege. He decided to begin getting ready for the day. His workday began at 9:00, which meant he had to leave at around 8:30 Colin preferred to walk to his job, especially since it was a pleasant day. Colin worked as a photojournalist at the Daily Prophet, taking pictures that would often be on the pages of the newspaper. He had always been passionate about photography ever since he was a little boy and his talents were proportional to his love for the profession. Colin liked the photographs in the Wizarding World which were enchanted to move. This increased the challenge of getting a good shot and also made the people in the photograph seem alive and breathing. It was also useful for adding a certain quality to the front page, making it seem as if the news was more urgent than it often really was. However, his favorite shots were always simple Muggle photographs, which were not enchanted, and thus had stationary subjects. There was something special about freezing certain moments in time that the enchanted photos with their endless movement did not have. Whenever he did weddings, Colin would always take a few non-enchanted pictures of the bride and groom looking into each others' eyes while they were dancing. This particular trick was quite useful and helped him make more off wedding photography than most in the Wizarding world.

He walked leisurely, trying to enjoy the sun that came with autumn. He had just entered Diagon Alley when he remembered that he wanted to look for books about a certain magical race in Flourish and Blotts. He quickly decided that he had enough time to go to the bookstore. He walked faster, intending to make the most of his time when out of the corner of his eye, he saw what seemed like a familiar face sitting next to the windows inside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour on the opposite side of the street. It took him a moment to recognize the girl that he had seen from the other day. She was sitting alone, daintily eating what seemed like a vanilla ice cream, while watching people walk past the parlour. He found himself debating whether it wasn't too early to go for an ice cream so early as well. He had just pushed the silly thought out of his head when he suddenly bumped into something hard-

"Watch where you're going young man!" said a rather plump witch.

"Sorry!" Colin apologized. He had bumped into a lamppost. He looked around, wondering whether anyone else had seen his gaffe when he suddenly saw the girl inside the parlour looking at him with an amused expression. Humor lit up her eyes as her mouth curved into a small smile that would have pleased him if he had not been so mortified. He hastily averted his eyes. He scolded himself for lacking presence of mind and decided to be on his way again to the bookstore. He found himself thinking about the girl's amused expression all the way to Flourish and Blotts.

She was certainly very beautiful, Colin thought to himself as he walked to the the bookstore. However, he of all people knew that many women were beautiful. And he also knew that witches in particular used all sorts of enchantments to make themselves look better than they really were. In fact, he knew of many heavily desired celebrity witches who did not look so lovely once they were away from set. The Wizarding World had many advantages over the Muggle World, but it was also easily fooled by all the glamours that could be so easily produced here in a place such as Diagon Alley. They seemed to think that the pictures they saw on the celebrity section of the Daily Prophet were real . Colin knew that once you took away all the enchantments, all of the makeup, many celebrities looked just like everyone else. They had flabs, and acne, and all the other things regular witches and wizards felt so insecure about. If nothing else, they would grow old, their bones would deteriorate, their hair would turn gray, and wrinkles would show on their faces. No magic had been able to stop this yet. This girl was no different. There was always a way to frame her, always an angle that would expose her, always an expression that would look out of place on her face. And yet, as he exited the store, he could not stop himself from privately thinking that he would not have minded having her as the object of his camera.

After this rather eventful morning, he entered the office of the Daily Prophet. He had been given a rather important assignment today, involving taking photographs of the International Warlock Convention. It was certainly not his expertise, but he knew that it was an opportunity to practice his noble profession to the best of his ability. He would take photographs that would make the esteemed leaders present look as impressive as they had ever been. He took pride is his profession. It was a noble art although not everyone realized it.

As he walked to his desk, his coworker teased him "You're late Colin. Its 9:01. "

" I bought a book on the way here." he answered.

"What's it about? Are there hot women on it?"

"No. Its nothing. When is the conference starting?" Colin replied, changing the topic. He had no plans on sharing anything with this rather lecherous coworker.

It was only later on, when he was in his home reading the book he had bought, that he found himself wondering whether the girl he had already seen twice was a veela.


	3. Gabrielle

Gabrielle

Gabrielle Delacour hated weddings and loved sunsets.

She sat on the swing set watching the red and orange sun as it slowly sank below the horizon. It glowed with spectacular fiery hues, giving vivid color to the long interval before the slow coming of nightfall. She could hear the laughter of children as they chased each other around the park. There was a sweet smell of peach that came from the nearby trees. A dog barked as it chased a frisbee its owner had thrown into the air. A young couple had taken shade under a tree and were having a small picnic. All in all, she thought it was a mercifully pleasant ending to a day that had not gone so well.

She had come from the wedding of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. It was a large affair with hundreds of guests, which did not surprise her because Harry was such a large celebrity in Britain. She had worn a white dress to the occasion, white being her favorite color and appropriate for the celebration. She knew that her beauty would attract the looks of men at the wedding, and she was right, as she immediately noticed several men whom she did not know steal furtive looks at her. A few were less subtle, and had stared outright, earning themselves scandalized looks from nearby women. She ignored this, as she was used to it. Her sister Fleur had been there as well, as well as her husband Bill Weasley and their two children Victoire and Dominique. She looked radiantly happy as she announced to Gabrielle that a third was on the way. Gabrielle had to admit that her older sister had only looked more beautiful with motherhood. She had gained some weight, and was not as slender as she used to be, but there was a new light in her eyes as she watched her daughter proceed down the aisle scattering rose petals along the bridal path along with her tuxedo-wearing husband and son. Almost all of the other Weasleys had attended the wedding. She remembered all of them, as she had stayed at their house for a short while to assist with the wedding of Bill and Fleur. Molly Weasley, who was Fleur's mother in law, looked older than she did when she last saw her. Her hair had grayed, and wrinkles were lining her face, but she seemed to be crying tears of joy as she witnessed her husband walk their youngest daughter down the aisle. Gabrielle had heard that Molly had been a mother figure to Harry and considered him as good as her son. She wondered whether Molly had not found it disconcerting at first that she was going to marry off her daughter to someone she considered as her son. Probably not, judging from the happy tears she cried, thought Gabrielle to herself. George Weasley had been there as well, along with his dark skinned wife. He seemed to be a little quieter than the last time she saw him, although he smiled at his sister as she neared the altar .The mischievous glint in his eyes seemed to be gone. She wondered where his twin brother Fred was. He did not seem to have attended, possibly because of a sickness or some other appointment. Those two seemed to be inseparable during her time at the Burrow. Maybe that was the reason for George Weasley's more reserved demeanor. Ron Weasley had been with his wife Hermione who he had married the previous year. They both smiled and clapped loudly at the proceedings. Hermione seemed to be on the verge of tears as well. Gabrielle knew that the pair had been Harry's companions on his journey to defeat the Dark Lord. The Wizarding World had honored them as heroes along with him, even putting them on the Chocolate Frog Cards. She wondered how it felt for all three of them that they were going to be in-laws.

Gabrielle had to admit that Ginny Weasley had done everything possible to make herself look beautiful on her wedding day. She had gone in a white dress as well, which went surprisingly well with her flaming red hair which had been done into pretty curls. Her skin shone, and there was a certain nervous excitement in her step, typical of young brides. She smiled as she walked towards Harry, and he smiled back almost a little too widely, as if he could not believe his good fortune. Harry himself looked handsome in his black dress robes. He had filled out a little, and was no longer as thin as he used to be. He had done his best to tame his messy black hair, and the effect was pleasing. He waited with the same kind of nervous excitement as the bride, and he looked as happy as she had ever seen him.

Gabrielle had gone to the wedding expecting to feel the twinge of jealousy she knew she would experience at the sight of Harry being married. She had tried to convince herself that what she had felt for Harry was nothing but the juvenile crush of a schoolgirl who had been saved from danger by her hero. She had tried her best to feel happy for him here, about to be married to the love of his life. And yet she was not prepared for the fact that it seemed so difficult to do so, and her face seemed difficult to rearrange in a smile. She found herself flashing back to the Triwizard Tournament, to the time when Harry had saved her from the merpeople. She had not known it back then, as she was so young, but she would begin to develop feelings for him. The little wave she had given him at the start of the Third Task had a different meaning to it. Her heart had leapt when he had waved back. She remembered chattering non-stop about him at home, while Fleur and her parents smiled knowingly. She remembered not being able to sleep, the night before they went to the house called The Burrow, anticipating the meeting with him. She had prepared herself as meticulously as an 11 year old girl could, nearly making them late for their appointment. She had shot him a look as she embraced Mrs. Weasley, just as she planned. This seemed to fluster him, and displease Ginny, who she heard clear her throat loudly. However, this turned out to be one of the brief moments that they would have together as they were mostly kept away from each other because of the amount of work that had to be done and any conversation they had was brief. She would often greet him in the morning, and he would politely return the greetings, but that was as far as she got. Most of the time, he was accompanied by his two best friends Ron and Hermione who she was inwardly annoyed with although she always polite with them. He was always surrounded by a friend, a well-wisher, or some other person he knew. After the wedding, the next time she had seen him was when she had just moved to England and he was already engaged to Ginny. She had hoped that after he defeated Voldemort, when she was done with school, that their paths would cross and she would be free to try to get his attention again. Life had not worked out that way. It seemed as if he never had any time for her. This thought saddened her, as she usually had no problem gaining the attention of men nowadays. Even when it was mostly unsolicited. And to think that she had barely ever been able to get the attention of the one boy she had ever thought of as a romantic partner. She was too young to fall in love, that was true, but it was such cruel irony. She suddenly found herself wondering whether Ginny's dress looked as good on her as she initially thought.

Her trail of thought was broken by a short tufty haired haired wizard who spoke in a slightly singsong voice:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered hear today to witness the union of these two faithful souls..."

She heard a trumpetlike sound and realized that the a gigantic man sitting in the front with a beard that covered most of his face had taken a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth out of his pocket and was blowing his nose with it. The tufty haired wizard continued on with his speech

"Do you, Harry James, take Ginevra Molly...?"

And suddenly reality hit her like a slap in the face, that Harry Potter was going to be married, and not to her. That her childhood crush was simply that, a crush. And suddenly she felt a strange desire to throw a tantrum, to declare that Harry Potter was hers because she was the one he had saved from the lake all those years ago. And then she remembered that she was no longer a child...

"... I now declare you bonded for life."

And as a shower of stars fell on the couple, and applause reverberated throughout the tent, she suddenly remembered that almost a decade had passed and so many things had happened since the time at the Burrow she was 11 and he was 17. A thousand horrible things that she had survived without him. Yes she had dreamed about him when times got too hard, but he had not been there, and she had taken life on all by herself. And she realized that he didn't need someone like her, with all her baggage, just as she did not need him to survive in the world. It was better that she leave silly schoolgirl crushes behind.

The tufty haired wizard asked everyone to stand, and the surrounding area turned into a golden dance floor, as chairs surrounded themselves around white clothed tables.  
The band trooped up towards the stage, and people occupied the tables. She decided to go to Harry and congratulate him. She walked up to him slowly, preparing a radiant smile. He had his back turned to her so she tapped him lightly on the shoulder twice. He turned around and then smiled back at her and spread him arms wide for an embrace. She looked at him for a moment, then accepted it.

"Thank you for coming. I appreciate it." said Harry.

"It was no trouble." she replied. It was easier than she thought it would be. "You are a lucky man"

"Thanks, I know" Harry replied. Humble as always.

She smiled at him one last time, then excused herself and went off to find a seat, preferably alone as she was not in a mood for conversation. However, all the tables were occupied. She looked around and saw a table with only one person occupying a seat. It was a rather thin boy with somewhat mousy hair. He was fiddling with his camera. She recognized him as the wedding photographer. He was probably also one of the guests. She hoped that he was too busy to notice her. She began to make her way to it and sat on the seat farthest the boy. They sat in silence as he fiddled with his camera and she watched the dancing that had begun. Harry and Ginny were now the center of attention, as he had taken her hand and was doing a surprisingly passable job at leading her in dance.

After a few songs, Gabrielle had a strange feeling the boy had not noticed her at all. He had continued fiddling with his camera and pointing his wand at it, probably casting enchantments on the pictures. It was rare, since she knew her beauty often attracted so much unwanted attention. She felt a strange urge to talk to the boy. Not talking to anyone got boring pretty quickly. She was about to open her mouth when someone suddenly tapped her on the shoulder.  
She gave a start and looked around. A rather heavyset blond boy had was looking at her, with an eager smile on his face. She recognized the look immediately. He would probably look to start a conversation next.

"Hello miss. I noticed you were alone." Original observation was probably not this boy's strong suit. "I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Cormac Mclaggen. What's yours?"

"My name is Gabrielle. Gabrielle Delacour" she replied politely.

"Gabrielle? That's a nice name". Maybe she judged him too early.

"Thank you" she smiled.

"So Gabrielle, how do you know the bride and groom?". asked Cormac.

"The bride is one of my in-laws. You?"

" Harry and me go way back. We used to be Quidditch teammates at Hogwarts" said Cormac.

" I see. That's interesting" Gabrielle lied. She had never liked Quidditch. Still, she supposed the niceties must be observed.

"Yeah. I'm a professional Quidditch player now. Puddlemere United" he said with an air of boasting. Gabrielle wondered if Puddlemere United was a name she was supposed to know.

"Oh is your team good?" Asked Gabrielle. The mousy haired boy in the other chair had left, possibly to take a sandwich from one of the waiters.

"Yeah we are. I lead the Quidditch league in saves. I'm a Keeper.

"What is a Keeper" she asked. She instantly regretted this as the boy launched into an explanation about the role of Keepers in Quidditch which led to a long detailed commentary on the greatness of his Keeping technique. They had just reached a pause where it seemed as if he had run out of stories and she was thinking of excusing herself when Cormac suddenly said "Hey Gabrielle, why don't we dance?"

"No thank you. I don't really like dancing" she replied. It was true. She did not like to dance.

"Come on. Just one song" he said with a note of pleading in his voice.

She knew his intentions, could read it from the greedy look that had suddenly appeared on his face. He was planning much much more than dancing.

"I don't want to dance". she said firmly.

He gave her a look of annoyance, then skulked off with an air that suggested that he felt he had wasted his time having a conversation with her.

Gabrielle watched him walk away. She had seen this scenario play out already. This had happened many times before, often when she least expected it. To most of the men she had met, she was merely an object to obtain.

She decided to go home. She had already talked to Harry. Nothing good would come out of staying here

She entered a comfort room that had been set up in the corner by magic. She pulled out her enchanted purse, and from it produced a shirt and jeans. She would go home lest other men attempt the same thing. She changed quickly, then immediately exited the tent.

She walked quicker and quicker, trying to release the tension that had built up inside her until she reached the park that she would often pass through on her way home. She looked up, and saw the sunset color the horizon a beautiful orange hue. It would be a waste to go home so she walked slowly towards the swing set and sank in it.

She thought of the times when she was a child, when she would go with her father to the park in France during summer, and they would play on swing sets like this. She was a small child, still ignorant of the world. Once she had read a Muggle book about a queen asking a magical mirror, who was the fairest in the land. The mirror had answered the queen that she was the fairest in the land. She had told her father that she wanted a mirror that would tell her she was the fairest. She smiled when she remembered how he laughed, and how he told her that no magic could make such a mirror. She had pouted, surprised to find that her request was impossible. Her father looked at her, with a twinkle in his eye, and said " I could be your mirror". She smiled, realizing that it was one of his great jokes that always made her laugh. She had recited the question "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" Her father had smiled and said " You are the fairest in the land, princesse".

She realized now, that to be the fairest in the land was a curse as much as a gift.


	4. Veela: Colin POV

_"The veela are a semi magical race that are similar to humans, often found in Eastern Europe and France. They are noted for their physical attractiveness, which is their most prominent characteristic. They also the ability to magically entrance the opposite sex through different actions such as singing and dancing, although levels of resistance may differ among humans. When angered, veela are known to change form into birdlike creatures and also gain the ability to create balls of fire which they use against their enemies. There is a large gender imbalance in this magical race, which has resulted in many female veela reproducing with non-veela wizards. Products of this union, which are called half veela, are also noted for having flawless physical features, and many of them retain the same abilities as full-blooded veela. They also inherit the magical capabilities of their father. The only ability that half-veela seem not to be able to inherit from their veela parents is the transformation ability. It has been debated in the Wizarding World whether full veelas can be counted as humans, since they bear great likeness to humans and also have the same functional capabilities that distinguish humans."_

Colin finished reading the passage and placed the book down on his desk. He had bought the book titled "An Introduction to Veela" at the bookstore in Diagon Alley 3 days ago and had read through it twice. It was a rather well-written book, with detailed descriptions and interesting trivia. He had been surprised to learn that some famous Wizarding celebrities had veela blood.

He had recently become interested in the topic, having heard about them from a coworker who had recently been to France. The coworker had regaled all the males at the office with tales of the beautiful veela women, and announced that he wanted to move to France because they were everywhere over there. Colin had watched as the man enthusiastically described the beauty of a Veela girl he had watched perform a song in a bar in Provence. He rarely joined in office chatting, although he was on good terms with all his coworkers, and his entrance into the conversation surprised the other men. They had teased him about this, laughing at the fact that it all it took was a conversation about beautiful women to ignite his interest. The women seemed less than impressed at this.

"She was absolutely beautiful! A first class lady! If I had any money, I'd get myself a veela wife! the man had said loudly to his impressed all-male audience.

The man had also told them that he felt a certain lightheadedness because of the beauty of the veela, and that he had wanted to do silly things to impress them, such as dance on stage.

"But your dancing is terrible!" said one of the listeners as the other men laughed raucously. Colin, who had seen this man dance at an office party, inwardly thought that truer words had never been said.

He had been interested in the veela for different reasons than the other hot-blooded males. If what his coworker said was true, then surely the veela had an otherworldly kind of beauty. He wondered what the woman in question looked like. The man had been so busy inventing adjectives for her beauty that he had never gotten down to the specifics. What was her hair and eye color? What were her dimensions? Maybe the man liked them in plus size?

Colin felt that such a project would be perfect for him and his trusty camera. He was a photographer, after all. Surely there could be no higher honor than to be able to capture a beauty so great that it put men under a spell. The purpose of people like him was to be able to capture the beautiful things of the world, so that people from all walks of life would be able to appreciate them. It would be a great challenge to capture the veela, no, to capture the moment in time when the veela looked at their most beautiful. They would have to be in the proper pose, placed in a fitting background. Colin had always privately disagreed with his boss, who often told them how the best photos he had taken were those of prisoners of Azkaban, staring at their hands as they slowly went mad. Their boss had talked about how heart-wrenching the photo was, how it portrayed accurately the reality of the inmates losing their minds. Something about capturing the inmates as they spoke to their non existent loved ones, or smelled the feces they had smeared on the walls, bothered Colin. The poor inmates did not deserve to be photographed in such a painful state, no matter how bad they were. At least give them their dignity. The best photos were those that made the looker sigh and smile at its beauty, not one that elicited such pity as to bring them to tears.

Colin also wondered if veelas, just like humans, lost their beauty as they aged. After all, it only took 30 years or so until most wizards and witches found that their youthful looks had deserted them. He wondered whether the veela women also faced this aging process. Did they have wrinkles, and gray hairs on their head? Would they be able to enchant men indefinitely? He remembered his mother telling him "Age is the great equalizer when it comes to looks Colin. No one can look beautiful forever." She had not known of veelas, for she was a muggle. Maybe his mother was wrong. Maybe there was a beauty that outraced Father time after all. He would capture it with his camera. Maybe he could even show it to her when he visited her. Then he remembered. She was at a rehabilitation center back home, and he did not like to visit that place at all.

He heard a sound, and realized that it was the telephone. A caller on a weekend? He picked up the phone and spoke into it.

"Hey Colin." said a warm voice that he recognized as Dennis Creevey, his younger brother.

"Hey Dennis" he replied. Yes his brother did occasionally call him on weekends. The two of them had kept in touch, even though they had both finished school and were busy with work and their own personal lives. Dennis now worked for Gringotts as a Curse Breaker, which meant that he was in charge of disabling or overturning curses in historical sites. Between the two of them, Dennis had turned into the more action-seeking half of the pair, while Colin had become quiet and introverted as he grew older.

"How's it going brother?" asked Dennis.

"I'm doing fine. You?" He wondered if he should tell his brother about his new interest. Probably not. His brother would just tell him to go get a girlfriend.

"I'm doing great. Just came from Egypt. You should see the tombs here."

"What are they like?" asked Colin. His brother had always been interested in Egyptian Tombs. Historic architecture was one of the things they both agreed that Muggles did better than wizards.

"Scary. You should see the curses that the old Egyptian wizards put on these tombs to defend them. We nearly died trying to defuse one of them."

"Well at least you're alive. Did you go alone?"

"Nah. You don't think Gringotts would let a rookie like me do in there alone would you? I went with Bill Weasley. That guy is a veteran. He saved my butt several times."

"Weasley?. Is he related to Ginny?"

"Yeah he's her older brother. I heard this was his last trip. He wanted to spend more time with his wife cause all the kids were going off to Hogwarts and she'd be alone in the house. Well, I don't blame him, a wife like that. Marrying a veela sure must be nice eh?"

"Veela? A full blooded one?"

"Nope. Quarter blood. Good for him. I wouldn't want my wife turning into a harpy every time we had an argument. You know this lady Colin, remember the Triwizard tournament? She was the only female contestant!"

"Oh, that lady! Fleur Delacour! She was at Harry's wedding several days ago. So i must have seen that Bill Weasley there too. Wait Fleur is a veela? Can't believe I've seen a veela before and didn't know it."

"Quarter Veela. And what are you talking about? You've seen veela plenty of times before! Remember Cho Chang from the D.A.?"

" Is she a veela too? Wow. There are veela in Britain?"

"Not many. By the way, how come you never recognized them as having veela blood? What, they weren't good looking enough?"

"To be honest, I only learned the facts about veela a few days ago. All this time I thought they were like vampires or hags or something. And anyway, Cho was pretty, but I didnt get caught in a trance looking at her or anything."

"Well that's cause your standards are way too high big bro. Even the lovely Cho Chang couldn't cut it. Well anyway, since you seem so interested in the topic, I'll let you in on a little secret. I heard that from Bill that Fleur's sister started working in Diagon Alley just last week. You work there too right? Might wanna keep an eye out for any supernaturally beautiful women walking around there. She might be the one that satisfies your impossibly high standards. If you want I could ask Bill to introduce you"

Colin sighed. His brother was always teasing him about women. "Thanks but no thanks."

"Really? I heard from the other guys that she was even better looking than her sister. Bit quiet though. You guys would get along just fine. But I guess you're planning to be celibate. A noble choice."

He laughed at this and replied "Yeah, maybe I am."

His brother replied "Well, I can't say I didn't see it coming. Anyway, I gotta go Colin. See you around"

"Yeah see you Dennis." he answered.

Colin put down the phone and sat down. So apparently there were veelas in Britain. In fact there were even part-veelas at his old school. He had been walking up to them and not noticing them. He reflected on what Dennis had said. He had seen veela such as Fleur Delacour and Cho Chang before. They were certainly beautiful, it was true. And yet at the same time, he had thought of many other women as beautiful. There was nothing that special about their beauty, nothing "supernatural" as Dennis had called it. Cho in particular, had looked quite a bit less beautiful to him even since he learned that she had defended her friend Marietta Edgecombe, who had betrayed the DA. He had not been entranced, or lightheaded, as his coworker had been. Maybe he was immune to their magic. It looked like the veela would not be his greatest project after all.

He decided to put the thought from his head. Obsessing about beautiful women all day would not be good for him. He would think about veela once he actually saw them.

He decided to go outside and look at owls from Eeylops. He needed a new one soon. He moved around the emporium for a while, looking at the prices. He decided to make a reservation for a tawny brown owl. He would buy her when he had gotten his wages.

Next, he went to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He had heard that George Weasley was running the place now that his brother Fred was dead. He had never entered this place before. He was not particularly interested in jokes. There were however, some interesting items here. He especially liked the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. it sounded particularly useful. He wondered how George Weasley was getting along without his brother. He had been in the same house as them at Hogwarts. They had always seemed so inseparable.

It was hot when he went outside, so he decided to buy an ice cream from the parlour nearby. He remembered the girl he had seen. She had sat at a table near the window. Was she a veela too? Hadn't he thought about that too many times?

He bought himself a chocolate ice cream and sat at the table the girl had sat in. He imagined himself walking along the street. He must have looked stupid walking into the lamppost. It was almost like he had been in a trance.

He suddenly remembered the book he had read. Hadn't it said that the veela had the veela to put whoever they chose to in a trance? But how could that have happened? She had not made eye contact, and he had read that the veela needed eye contact to perform the spell. And why would she randomly use it on him? Had she been playing a joke?

This was all so foolish, he thought to himself. He was acting like a lovestruck 14 year old, thinking excessively about the intentions behind the actions of a random woman. And yet he could not stop himself from thinking about what had happened. Had it not been established that he had a very high tolerance for the charms of veela women? And yet, as he thought about silvery blonde hair, and blue eyes, and a mouth curving into a smile, he knew that this women's beauty was different. She was more beautiful than either Fleur Delacour or Cho Chang. If they were part veela, then surely, so was this girl. Maybe he was not so immune to veela charms after all. The feeling of vulnerability scared him, yet he felt an exhilaration at the same time.

 _This could be his greatest job yet._

He suddenly found himself thinking about his camera. If only he knew her. He would have jumped at any chance to talk to her, maybe recomment his own services at her future wedding. He did not have clients like that everyday. And he was not a slob attempting fruitlessly to charm her, as he knew many men must be doing. He was just a humble photographer, attempting to give honor to his profession. Unfortunately, he did not know where she lived, had no way of contacting her. He did not want to to stalk her by gaining her information from unethical methods. He was not a stalker, he was a professional who respected his clients. She was probably far away. She even looked foreign. It was possible that she was back in her own country.

He suddenly remembered what his brother had just told him. " _Might wanna keep an eye out for any supernaturally beautiful women walking around there._ "

 _It couldn't be_.


	5. Love And Ice Cream: Gabrielle POV

"Miss Primpernelle, the order has just arrived", said Gabrielle to a plump kind faced woman who until then had been talking to an elderly couple.

"Okay Gabrielle, will be there! Why don't you talk to these costumers for me? They were asking about our wart removers."

Gabrielle readied a radiant smile, then walked up to the couple and said politely "Good Morning, my name is Gabrielle. I am the assistant here at Madam Primpernelle's shop. I heard you were inquiring about our products?"

This was her life now. She had been hired as an assistant at a shop which sold beauty potions in Diagon Alley two weeks ago by Miss Primperenelle who was now her boss. Her work consisted of talking to costumers, which ranged from giggling teenagers to elderly people looking for wart removers just like this one. This had certainly not been what she had expected, having graduated from Beauxbatons, which was a prestigious school of magic. Unfortunately, it had not worked out that way. She had applied at the Daily Prophet, only to be told that she was not good for "workplace cohesion." However, she could not complain too much, as she liked Miss Primpernelle, who had been a very nice boss. In any case, a witch must earn her daily bread.

Miss Primpernelle herself had told her many times how glad she was to have her. Ever since she had become an assistant there, business was booming and the shop had even more customers than it usually did. For some reason, a significant percentage of the the new customers were young men who came there claiming that they were going to buy products for their significant others. They would look around the shop for a little while, before attempting to strike up conversation with Gabrielle. Evidently even beauty potions were interesting to young men as long as they were being sold by a pretty assistant. Many of them would leave immediately without buying anything once she had rebuffed their advances. This had bothered Miss Primpernelle, who had decided that she would be the one to accommodate them. This decision had done much to curb their numbers, although there were a few that braved Miss Primpernelle's fiery gaze for the prize of being able to sneak a few longing looks at Gabrielle. Gabrielle herself had been left to tend to the old wives looking for the fountain of youth and the giggling teenagers who peppered her with questions on how her skin was so smooth and her hair was so straight. She had used this to the advantage of the shop, although she had never actually used any of the shop's products on herself.

The one thing that Gabrielle liked about her work was that it was in Diagon alley. It was a wonderful place, with its many shops and its interesting hustle and bustle. In France, contrary to the usual stereotypes, the wizarding community was more reserved. This place had no equivalent in her hometown. She loved the bookstores, where she could find books on many different interesting topics. She loved the Owl Emporium, where a variety of owls of all colors were being sold. She would be sure to buy one soon. There were shops that sold telescopes, and slimy eel, potion bottles, and globes. She had even tried the joke shops, which turned out to be an even more entertaining experience. She had never been one for jokes and prance, but she was surprised to find herself looking at the noisemakers; interestedly examining the Skiving Snackboxes, and wondering if the Extendable Ears would be effective. There were even some items that looked really for effective for self defense such as the Instant Darkness Powder.

Her favorite place in all of Diagon Alley however, was Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. She had gone there regularly even since she had first come to Britain. It was a small but restaurant which sold ice creams with flavors ranging from classics like her favorite vanilla to more unorthodox ones such as green tea and even pepper. It was one of the few joys her meager salary could buy. The owner and manager, who was not named Florean Fortescue but was actually his wife, was a short blonde woman in her mid-sixties. Gabrielle would often wonder how she bustled around with the energy, of a much younger woman, giving orders to waiters, cleaning tables herself, and occasionally sitting down to chat with Gabrielle herself, who she seemed to view as her favorite customer. She had many stories to tell, about the parlour; about rude customers; and new recipes, but her favorite stories to tell were about Florean himself. He certainly must have been a nice guy; Gabrielle had thought as she listened to the woman, who often was almost teary eyed, tell stories of the man who had been a wonderful husband and father had died because he had refused to give valuable information to the death eaters. The good died young, as Gabrielle only knew too well. Her father had been younger than Mister Fortescue when he had died. She had said this once to Miss Fortescue while the blonde woman was reminiscing about a trip she had taken with her husband to France. Miss Fortescue had smiled and nodded her head knowingly. The best part about it was that after talking to Gabrielle, she would often tell her that the ice cream order was free.

Today however, Miss Fortescue was not interested in telling sad stories. She was in a jolly mood, and was reminiscing on the joys of teenage love. She talked about herself as a youth; how all the men in their neighborhood had wanted her hand in marriage. Gabrielle somewhat doubted this, as Miss Fortescue had a plain, rather heavy face. Maybe Miss Fortescue had different attributes that made men fall for her. She was certainly kind, smart, and a very good cook. She must have made a very good wife. She was listening to Miss Fortescue talk about the rather unethical use of love potions in her old neighborhood when the older woman suddenly changed course and asked:

"And what about you Gabrielle? Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question surprised her. She had thought that coming here on her own all the time would get the point across. She suddenly got the sense that the old lady had been meaning to ask this all along.

"No. I've never had one actually", replied Gabrielle.

" I see. Why not, a lovely woman such as yourself?"

"I... it didn't work out.". She was not sure she wanted to talk about Harry. All the feelings she had for him. It was a simple schoolgirl crush, nothing more. She did not want to spin great tragedies out of nothing.

"I see, so there was a boy you liked?", asked Miss Fortescue.

"Yes. When I was young." A little too young at first, She thought in her head

"Well you still are. What did you like about him?" Another surprising question. Gabrielle had thought she would immediately ask what didn't "work out".

What had she liked about Harry again? She quickly thought of the fact that he had saved her from the merpeople in the lake. That made him brave, strong, and kind. He was also nice to most people, was very talented at Quidditch and magic. And there was also that business with Voldemort. That made him a hero not just in her eyes but in the eyes of the Whole Wizarding World. What was there not to like?

But she knew deep inside that although she admired him for those things, that they were not what kept her feelings going for more than a decade; aging even into her adulthood and well past the time when girls grew out of silly crushes. He was a hero, but many people were heroes, and far too many tried to be one. She had learned to look past these attributes as she grew older. There were many men back in France who were more handsome, more talented, lived closer to her than Harry. She could have her pick of any man she liked. But she had never gotten over the Boy-Who-Lived because she had seen something in him beyond the stories. Every time she had met him, whether it was visiting her sister, or when she had first moved to England, or even at his own wedding, he had always treated her like she had always wanted to be treated. As a normal person. He never gawked, never stared, never seemed to be affected by the spell she cast over men that she had absolutely no control over, that made bumbling idiots of men. She could not control her curse, but he was the only one who seemed totally unaffected by it. Everyone else had their slip-ups, whether they be small like the Weasleys, or large such as that great oaf Cormac Mclaggen. Harry always treated her like everyone else. And it seemed to her as if it meant that his heart was purer than most; that her affliction could not touch him. He was one of the few men who she could not unintentionally harm. And his heart was the kind of heart she had wanted to obtain for herself.

"Well, he was a nice person, very nice. And he was very smart and strong." Gabrielle replied.

'I see. Did you tell him your feelings?" asked Miss Fortescue. What an interview this had become. Gabrielle made a mental note to ask for two free ice creams the next time she went here.

"No."

"Why? It seems such a shame"

"I don't know.. We didn't see each other much when i was growing up, and I was too shy as a child. By the time I was ready to tell him, he was already engaged." she admitted. What harm could it do?

" I see. What was his name?"

"Harry. His name was Harry." said Gabrielle.

"Oh. I see," said Miss Fortescue, nodding her head. Well Gabrielle, you're still a beautiful young lady and you have your whole life ahead of you. You don't seem that interested in love, and that's a good thing for now. Enjoy life while you're still free".

"Will do Miss Fortescue.", said Gabrielle, smiling. "Sometimes, I think that most men are just a bunch of drooling idiots".

She clapped her hand to her mouth sheepishly, thinking that she had been impolite, but Miss Fortescue shook her head, and said, "Don't be sorry. I think that too. I'll tell you a little secret since I trust you so much." "Keep it to yourself, okay", she said, and Gabrielle nodded. " To be honest, what I said about being the object of affection of every man in the neighborhood was not true. I was no beauty back then. In fact, I'm no beauty now." She laughed at this, then went on. "I was always trying my best to show my other attributes. Back then, we women didn't have the options you ladies have now. There were not many career women in those days. Life for us was about marrying and raising good Magical Children till they were sent to school." Gabrielle was surprised at this. She had not heard about this from Beauxbatons at all. "I was worried that I wouldn't be married, since no one had come into my life. I was angry at other men, always thinking about what a bunch of shallow pigs they were, only interested in beauty and not caring about other attributes. "But then", and her voice turned wistful, "I met Florean. He was a simple man even back then, doing odd jobs to support himself. He was the only one who fell in love with me for who I was. He always said he loved my cooking, and he loved how I was good at household spells, and he loved how I was such a sweet person. I had never heard that from anyone before. He was a scruffy guy with a strange long beard, and we didn't have much money back then, but he was the man of my dreams and we were perfect for each other. We got married a year after meeting. "Miss Fortescue had a nostalgic look on her face, the one she always seemed to have when talking about her late husband. She did not seem to be teary-eyed this time, and her voice was strong as she smiled at Gabrielle, and said "Love is a wonderful thing, Gabrielle. I know that many men have treated you in a disrespectful manner. I watched you in this shop, and I know how most men act around you. I know how you try to ignore it, and keep your dignity, You're a fine young lady, and you will find the one that will make you happy, just like my Florean did to me. I know it. Bur for now, enjoy your life first.".

Gabrielle looked back into her eyes, unsure what to respond. Several thoughts entered her head at the same time.

"Thanks Miss Fortescue. I'll keep that in my mind" she said.

"Its Miss Holly dear. Now, I know how you love our ice creams. So why don't I whip you up a banana split with strawberry ice cream? It's on the house."

She stood up and went to the back of the kitchen. Gabrielle watched her go, and thoughts continued to form in her head. She felt slightly resentful about Miss Fortescue's suggestion that a man would suddenly come and sweep her on her feet. Hadn't she proven enough that she needed no such thing? She had trusted too many times to believe in fairy tales. She decided to let it go. She thought about what Miss Fortescue had said, about noticing the awful behavior of men towards her. She wondered how it felt to be like Miss Fortescue back then, to have no suitors, no one looking her up and down every time she showed herself in public. How did it feel to not have the curse that she was born with? Would she be free then? Or would she somehow miss all the attention that she got?

She looked around the shop. It seemed empty today, except for a thin mousy haired young man who was fiddling with a camera around his neck. She did a double take, and realized that she had seen him somewhere before. She jogged her memory. _Where had she seen him_? She suddenly remembered a large white clothed table, and Cormac Mclaggen, and she realized that this was the wedding photographer. She had sat with him at the table, and had been meeting to talk to him until Cormac arrived. She looked outside, and suddenly remembered a face hitting a lamppost; an embarrassed look. Yes, she had seem him before. Twice in fact. There was a nervous look on his face, and he seemed to be having an internal debate with himself.

As she was observing this, Miss Fortescue called out, "Gabrielle, here's your banana split!" Gabrielle smiled at her as the blonde woman walked up to her table carrying the delicious looking confection. She thanked Miss Fortescue, then looked back in time to lock eyes with the mousy haired boy. He instantly averted his eyes and began fiddling with his camera again. Gabrielle was somewhat surprised by this. Most men found it hard to look away when she locked eyes with them. This boy seemed to have a stronger constitution. However she found his endless fiddling with the camera quite strange. She wondered why he seemed so nervous. It occurred to her that he might have been affected by her charms after all. At least he was not a staring or drooling idiot. Suddenly, he stood up, and with an air of having to do something particularly embarrassing, walked over to her table and said; "Hello, that's a very tasty looking ice cream isn't it?

Gabrielle could not stop herself from rolling her eyes as she inwardly said to herself " _Here we go again_ ".

.


	6. Meeting: Colin POV

Colin felt like he would like nothing better than to smash his head into the nearest table before running away. His face felt hot, and he wished he could melt on the spot. He had just walked over to the girl's table and in an attempt to start conversation, had said: "Hello, that's a very tasty ice cream, isn't it?" He had commented on her ice cream. It had come out of his mouth spontaneously, almost as if he was not in control of his own voice. He had never said such a stupid and embarrassing thing to anyone else before. And in front of her, of all people. The one person that he absolutely had to make a good first impression on.

She looked at him with a haughty and seemingly annoyed expression. He could not blame her. It really was a stupid thing to ask. His brain worked on overdrive, trying to find a way to salvage the conversation. His face twisted into an awkward smile, and he said "Sorry, I didn't mean to be weird." The look on her face told him that she was unsure whether or not to believe him. He fought on. He had to at least try. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Colin. I'm a photographer at the Daily Prophet", said Colin. This had not been part of the plan. He had told himself that he would not talk about being a photographer immediately. He mentally slapped himself on the head again and smiled awkwardly. The girl continued to look haughty, but he was surprised when she answered with a slightly distinguishable french accent: "How may I help you, Mr. Colin?

At least she was polite, he thought to himself.

Colin considered her question, and realized that he had run out of things to say. He found himself thinking that the girl probably saw him as quite strange. He did not even know if she liked being photographed. Maybe she was very camera shy. At worst, he could look an obsessive stalker. He found himself stuttering, at a loss for words.

"I... I...um..."

"I thought you were a photographer, Mister Colin?"

"Uh... yeah I am."

"Well, why did you speak to me?"

"Well I um... wanted to offer you... my services", he finished lamely. A voice in his head started speaking. _Colin you twat she didn't ask your services_!

She raised her eyes and said "I don't remember asking for the services of a photographer".

"It... it doesn't have to be today. I... I just thought... you were very... nice looking. Photogenic. That's... that's what I meant."

A smile came over her face as he said those words, but he somehow knew that it was not out of pride at his compliment. It was a tired almost exasperated smile that he knew was forced.

"Thank you, Mister Colin." she said in a neutral voice.

"Well, I uhh... It was nice meeting you." He had done what he wanted to do. It was best to go into damage control. He turned around to leave, walked towards the door and had gone 3 steps when he suddenly heard her call him-

"Mister Colin!"

He stopped in his tracks, surprised, and he turned around slowly to face her.

"Yes?"

"You don't want to know my name?" said the girl.

The realization hit him. He had not asked for her name. He had a very good idea what it was. But he knew he could be wrong. It happened all the time.

"Oh yeah! Sorry! I didn't get your name! he apologized.

"It's Gabrielle. Gabrielle Delacour", said the girl. Her expression had softened, and she did not look as haughty as before.

Colin smiled and said "Its nice to meet you. By the way, no need to call me Mister. It makes me feel old."

She gave him a small smile back. "It's nice to meet you too. By the way, I love the ice cream here as well."

He laughed a bit too hard. He was relieved. _She didn't think he was a weirdo_.

"Well Gabrielle, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you."

She smiled at him again, then gave a nod.

He made his way to the door and out of the parlour. He looked back at her table on the way out but his vision was blocked. The customers had started filling in. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour would soon be full.


	7. Bad Memories

"She's had a hard time here, but she's been fighting hard to be clean", said the nurse.

Colin had entered into the drug rehabilitation center by himself. It had taken a while for him to screw his courage up and do this. He had never wanted to do this. But he had no choice. Dennis had said that his mother would occasionally say his name, in her sleep. She would ask for forgiveness. He did not know if his brother was just saying it to get him to visit her. But he had to know. He knew he was angry at her. But maybe, if he listened to what she had to say, he could remember his mother in a better light. Maybe he could remove the weight that settled in his chest at the mention of her name.

He walked slowly as he tried to remember how she had gotten here. The years had driven it out of his mind. What was the reason she started trying all those substances in the first place? He didn't know. Maybe it was around the time that their dad had suddenly walked out on them while he in his first year at Hogwarts. Or maybe it was around the time that she had started complaining that the roles she was being offered did not suit an actress of her caliber. For some reason, he could never pinpoint when everything had started to go horribly wrong. Probably it was because she started getting worse and worse when he was already at Hogwarts. He was too young, too naive to know that the beautiful eyes, aquiline nose, and straight hair, would be replaced by a gaunt mask. He was too young to know that she would hit him, many many times, and that he would not even defend himself because he was so busy wondering what he had done to deserve this. He was too young to know how many painful words would come spilling out of her mouth.

Sometimes, he would tell himself that this was not actually his mother, that someone else had taken over her. He remembered how their other relatives had described it. "It's someone else talking, they said". He knew that what they really meant to say was that it was the drugs and the alcohol that were talking. The thought would sometimes comfort him. Yes, it could not be his mother; the woman who would often make him his favorite meals when he was sick, or would take time off from her busy schedule to check up on how she was doing. It was someone else. Someone had possessed her. It was easier to think that.

The first summer back from Hogwarts had been terrible. He had come home, talking endlessly about magic, and transfiguration, and Harry Potter. He could not keep his mouth shut about the things that he had seen in the Wizarding World. The first wizard in the family. He had felt very proud. There was something special about him. _He was special. Specia_ l. The thought had kept repeating in his head, and spilling out somehow from his mouth. He had been too absorbed in himself to realize that she seemed less than impressed, and that her eyes did not light up the way it had first lit up when he had gotten the letter from Hogwarts and had learned that he was a wizard.

She had started smelling different, the familiar smell of home being replaced by the pungent aroma of alcohol. Her smiles became more rare, more forced. She did not like being asked questions, and her answers became short and increasingly senseless. Her temper became shorter and shorter. She would often get angry at how bad he was at doing muggle chores like dish-washing, and vacuuming. He resorted to locking the door to his often just so she would not have a chance to scream about his room which, while not being filthy, was not always spotless. She would often loudly bemoan all the things that she thought were bringing her down. Sadly, he seemed to be on her list. It was like a routine that he had memorized. Complain about the studio. Complain about the husband that left her. Complain about Colin and his silly magic. Studio. Ex-husband. Colin. Studio. Colin. Ex-husband. Colin. Ex-husband. Studio.

Her rants were usually intolerable and painful. but what stuck with him was that she would always find a way to bring his magical abilities into them. He wondered why it seemed to her that he thought himself better and more important than everyone else just because he could do magic. " You think you're so special", was her constant refrain. The sarcastic roll of her tongue at the word "special" tore at his heart. He was special, wasn't he? He had always wanted to be special. What was so wrong about that?

Sometimes she would sarcastically ask why he didn't just wave his wand and mutter an incantation that would ensure that all the house chores were done. "You would at least be useful around here", she often told him. It never mattered to her that he had just finished his first year at the school, and that Charms was never his favorite subject. When he told her he couldn't do it, she would answer: I didn't send you off to that school to be useless. I thought they taught magic at that school?" Colin never really knew how to respond to this.

He would never forget the time she forgot his twelfth birthday. She had never forgotten it before. She would usually make cake for him and surprise him with a gift. Then she would sing for him, her soft voice somehow drowning out the off key singing of his dad and his brother. Then he would blow the candles and make a wish. He never got too old for such a ritual. He treasured those moments even now that he hated her. But on his twelfth birthday, the moment never came. He had woken up early, expecting at least a greeting. He sat at the table, wondering what she had made for breakfast. When she entered the dining room, he greeted her a good morning cheerfully, only to be answered by a sullen grunt uncharacteristic of his mother. She set a plate of burnt toast in front of him. He was so shocked that he lost his appetite. He ate slowly, wondering if she was simply acting, waiting for her face to light up and for his brother to pop out and shout "Happy Birthday!".

Suddenly, when he could take it no longer, he asked, "Hey ma, you know what day it is today right?".

"What? Oh yes. Today is the day those darn electricity bills arrive. Don't remind me", she snapped.

He stopped eating, fighting back the tears that he was surprised were building up in him. He wolfed down the toast, though his throat felt coarse, and ran up quickly to his room. Hot tears threatened to flow, and he told himself: "You're old Colin. You're already twelve years old. Twelve year olds don't cry." He somehow managed to fight them back. By the time his birthday had ended, he had already forgiven her. After all, their dad had just walked out on them. She was probably too sad to remember.

It was quite ironic really, but Colin knew that he owed his photography career to his mother. Photography was a muggle career. Muggles were the ones who had invented the camera. It had surprised many of his classmates when he had told them that he would pursue such a career. At first, he dreamed about being an Auror, or a potioneer. Jobs that would require much wand waving and a knowledge of the magical arts. His camera was merely something he used so that he would have something to show his parents when he got home from summer break. But as he grew older, the one thing he was constantly motivated to get better at was photography. There was no mistaking his motivation; he had wanted his mother to be proud of him. Photography was the one muggle skill he was very good at. When he was using his camera, taking pictures of the landscape during summertime, it seemed to him that his mother was less inclined to shout at him. He would often show his work to her, and would mostly be met with indifference, but his best work would get a nod in response. Every summer after school was spent improving his craft. He would occasionally join Muggle competitions, managing to win several awards. He had seen some signs of approval from her, although her condition was rapidly deteriorating by this time. As he grew older, he had come to appreciate the nobility of the profession, but he never forgot the reason he had been so motivated to improve at it in the first place

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted when someone tapped him on the shoulder, He turned around and was the nurse who had spoken to him when he had entered the building. There was an sad look on her face, and he knew that whatever had happened was not good. He felt a slight worry twist his chest. Had she seriously injured herself?

The nurse saw his expression, and said in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry sir, but I think you should cancel the visit. The patient is not in a good mental state.

"What happened?", he asked.

"I don't know how she did it sir, but it appears she managed to smuggle certain banned substances into the center sir".

"What's happening to her?"

"She's hallucinating sir. Its an effect of the substance. It would be better if you rescheduled your visit sir."

Colin sighed, but he knew that she was right. He wondered if his mother would ever get clean. Then suddenly he remembered he had brought something for her. She could keep it. He reached into his bag and brought out a stack of photos. It was a copy of the wedding pictures he had taken at Harry's wedding. He gave it to the nurse.

"Could you give her these? Tell her I was the one who took these pictures." asked Colin.

The nurse nodded.


	8. The Visit

"Hey Colin, could you come over to my place tomorrow?" Dennis had asked.

Colin wondered why his brother was inviting him over to his house. In some ways, it was a pleasant surprise, since it had been a while since he had visited his brother. But he also wondered what Dennis wanted to talk about with him. Was it related to last week, when he had tried to visit their mother? He was not sure that it would be a pleasant conversation. It could also be about something unrelated. Maybe his brother had been on another interesting adventure in Egypt he was itching to tell Colin about. Maybe Dennis just missed him and wanted to catch up over some coffee.

"Why? What's up?" he asked.

"I just wanted to catch up. And there's something I wanna tell you. But I can't disclose it here." replied Dennis.

Colin wondered why his brother was being so mysterious. He suspected it had something to do with his job as a Curse Breaker. He was slightly relieved. At least there would be no awkward conversations.

"Okay, I will." he replied.

He was walking along the street on the way to his brother's house, appreciating the beauty of the different buildings. The large skyscrapers that made up the Metropolis his brother lived gleamed in the afternoon sun. Although he was proud to be a wizard, it impressed him how Muggles were able to build such beautiful buildings without any magic. He was slightly jealous of the fact that his brother was able to live in a posh apartment in one of the most expensive districts in England. He had heard that there were celebrities and politicians that had chosen to make their home here. Being a Curse Breaker did have its perks. Apparently Gringotts provided this kind of housing to some of its employees. He decided to make his way to a taxi line, since he was tired of walking. As he was buying a burger from a vendor, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and was surprised to see Gabrielle Delacour smiling at him. He smiled and waved back.

"Hello, Mr Photographer" said Gabrielle.

"Hello yourself. What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm going to get a taxi, of course." she replied.

He laughed at the cheekiness of her answer, then said, "I see. Me, I'm here to visit my brother."

"Ah. I'm here to meet my sister actually. I will stay at her house for the holidays, so I bought some Christmas Decorations" replied Gabrielle.

"Oh. So we're both here on family business then. "

"Yes we are, Mr Photographer". She seemed to enjoy calling him that. Was she teasing him?

" So your sister lives around here?" he asked.

"No, she lives near the sea, she's just accompanying her husband here" answered Gabrielle.

" Wow, the sea. That's nice."

"Yes, it is." she replied as she continued smiling at him. An awkward pause ensued.

"So uh... we should get going then."

"Yes, we should."

They walked to the taxi line, and he allowed her to ride first. She gave him a small wave as the taxi left. A feeling that he could not explain arose in him. Was he... pleased with himself?

He arrived at his brother's house at around 3:00 in the afternoon. He rang the bell twice, and he heard steps from inside. The door opened to reveal his younger brother. Dennis Creevey looked like he had gained 20 pounds of solid muscle since Colin had last seen him. He was no longer lanky and thin as Colin last remembered. His shoulders were broad, and his arms filled out his new shirt. His hair, which often used to be uncombed and messy, looked neat. He also had some rather noticeable burns and scars on his face and arms.

"Hello, little brother. Its nice to see you." said Colin.

"Hey big bro. It's nice to see you too." said Dennis as he welcomed Colin inside his house.

"So, why did you ask me to come here?" asked Colin.

Dennis smiled. "I just wanted to catch up. Have a seat. I made coffee." He waved his wand, and two cups of steaming coffee appeared on the table.

They sat on couches opposite each other.

"So Colin, I heard you went to visit Mom the other day. How was it?" asked Dennis

"We didn't meet." answered Colin shortly. He was in no mood to talk about the last visit.

"Ah I see" said Dennis in a voice that conveyed that he clearly understood the signals Colin was giving. "So big bro, how's work for the Daily Prophet going?"

"It's been going good. Pretty much the same as always. I haven't been hired to do anything interesting since that last International conference. Mostly it's been small stories and all that".

"I see," said Dennis. "Well I'm not surprised. The Ministry of Magic's always had a thing for censoring all the juicy news that could make them look bad. I always thought the Daily Prophet was the opposite of Muggle newspapers. Over in the Muggle World, I heard they have a saying: If it bleeds, it leads. The Daily Prophet prefers to keep things PG-13."

"Yeah, its pretty annoying actually. It's like the Wizarding World is more boring than the Muggle World even when its inhabitants are the ones than can do magic. " said Colin.

"I couldn't have said it better." smiled Dennis. "Now big brother Colin, speaking of juicy topics, I hear you've followed my advice and decided to talk to a certain veela? With a name that starts with the letter G?"

It didn't take long for Colin to realize who Dennis was talking about. "You mean Gabrielle?" he asked.

"No Colin, I meant Grace. Grace Delacour", said Dennis in mock seriousness.

"I could have sworn you said Gabrielle". said Colin, playing along with the joke.

Dennis laughed. "Yep, that's her. I met her last week at Fleur's house. I overheard her telling Fleur about meeting a guy named Colin who was advertising his photography services to her. Fleur remembered that I told her I had a brother named Colin who was an avid photographer. Very nice pick-up technique big bro. Gotta use what you're given right? But I definitely didn't expect you to be this resourceful."

"I wasn't trying to pick her up!" protested Colin, who was embarrassed. "It's just, I thought she'd make a good subject."

"I know. I heard". said Dennis, who had a mischievous smile on his face that was getting bigger and bigger. " I heard you said she was, did I hear it right, photogenic? Is that the adjective photographers use instead of beautiful?

"Well. she was photogenic!"

"I hear ya big bro. She's a veela after all. But the million galleon question is, do you like her?"

"What? No! I mean come on, we've only met one time! I just wanna have her as a subject one of these days. She'd make a great one."

"Woah chill out Colin, why so defensive? I'm just messing with you. But anyway, is there a particular reason that you'd think she's such a great subject. I mean, she's not the only beautiful girl you've ever met is she?"

"I.. I dunno." stammered Colin. Would Dennis think he was weird?

"Uh huh" said Dennis, clearly unconvinced.

Colin took a deep breath, then began talking. "Hey Dennis, do you think Veela, or Half Veela anyway, do you think they get uglier as they age?

Dennis looked at him strangely. "I dunno Colin. But, if you think about it, it can't be right?" Veela are supposed to be beautiful. They wouldn't be veela if they weren't right?"

"Yeah. You're right. You're totally right. It's a different kind of beauty right? She never gets uglier even if she ages. A true timeless beauty. What else can a photographer like me ask for?

"I see what you mean. But I mean, come on Colin, there are plenty of veela in the Wizarding world. Heck, some might even work for the Daily Prophet. Why not pick one of them?

"I dunno. Like you said Gabrielle is even more beautiful than most veela." said Colin.

"Okay okay. So basically, you're doing this to get a really big feather in your cap? You can't be the only one to have photographed a veela."

"I...". He was stammering again. He decided to tell his brother. He didn't care if Dennis would think he was weird "I just wanna show them to Mom. They're gonna be my best work you know. I'll photograph an actual timeless beauty. Remember what she told us? No beauty lasts forever. I'll take photographs of Gabrielle and show them to her. Prove her wrong. Isn't that what photographers should do? Change how people see the world through our photos. Mom will love it. I think she'll be pretty proud of me."

"She's already proud of you Colin.", said Dennis. He looked sympathetic.

Colin shook his head. Dennis didn't understand. He decided to change the topic.

"Did she think I was weird?"

"Who, Gabrielle? No. Why would she think that?"

"I was a little weird at first. Asked how her ice cream tasted."

"Ah that. Yeah well, she thought it was cute I guess."

"Really?"

"Nope. She thought it was kinda weird. Said you were a smooth talker and really nice though so it was okay. You didn't sound that smooth to me. To each his own I guess. Luckily, i'm not the lovely lady you're interested in. Hey you're pretty interested in what she thinks of you. I knew you liked her!

"No I don't", said Colin at once.

"Okay big bro. Anyway, remember when i said I over the phone that I had something to share with you?

"Yeah." said Colin, who had suddenly remembered his purpose for going to his brother's house. The conversation had driven it out of his mind.

"Well, anyway, I just came from Africa with some of the senior Curse Breakers. We were tasked with retrieving something that the Goblins claimed was made by them. Apparently they're in a big legal battle with the Ministry. We were paid a hefty sum just to get it from this Muggle African Warlord in Libya who'd apparently gotten hold of it somehow. The Ministry allowed them to keep it in Gringotts until the day the courts decide who it belongs to. No one can protect magical artifacts quite like Gringotts. The only guy who's ever been able to break its defenses was Harry Potter."

"What is it?" asked Colin.

"Well, it's a mirror.' But not just any mirror. Here's the thing Colin, when we got to the Warlord's Mansion, we found him looking at his own reflection. The guy couldn't move. He was just staring like a weirdo at the mirror. Like he couldn't take his eyes off it. He didn't even notice we were there. He was no looker, so that was especially weird. Anyway, all of us Curse Breaker's have had experience with this kind of stuff. We knew enough not to look at it. We went in from behind the mirror, then enchanted a curtain to cover it. Once the curtain was on, it was only then that the warlord noticed we were there. He lost it at that. Pulled out his knife and ran at us like a madman. We subdued him. then left with the mirror.

"I see. So why is it with you now?"

"Well, I'm gonna bring it to Gringotts in a week. I've been given strict orders not to open it or look at it or anything I've basically been entrusted with it. Next week is when the Goblins are allowed to place it inside Gringotts. Pretty cool huh?

"Yeah, I guess, if you think being entrusted with Dark Magical Artifacts is pretty cool."

"Yep. Well anyway, that's basically what I wanted to talk to you about. Aren't you proud of your little bro?"

"Yeah I am. So uh.. where is it then? Could I see it?" asked Colin.

"Well, okay then." said Dennis.

Dennis stood up, walked to his bedroom, then came out holding a rather large package. It was in the shape of a large, oval mirror.

"Wonder what that guy saw in it" said Colin.

"Yeah. I doubt it was his own face." replied Dennis.

They continued debating what the African Warlord had seen all the way until Colin left the apartment. Little did they know that the enchanted mirror in their possession had ways of making itself seen.


	9. Angels: Gabrielle POV

_Where do people go when they die_?

The question played in Gabrielle's head as she laid the white roses on top of her father's gravestone. It was a cold October in France, but the sunset gave beauty and warmth to the beautiful cemetery. The neatly trimmed grasses swayed and danced as the cold breeze blew in the afternoon. Strange white marble statues lined the graveyard, seemingly watching those who had been interred there. Their sorrowful faces seemed to Gabrielle to be mourning the dead that surrounded them. Some were statues of women wearing cloaks that reached to their feet, and who had large wings like eagles. Others were statues of plump children with curly hair, and who also had the same wings as their counterparts. The child statues were either sitting or kneeling on top of smooth surfaces that had been carved out for them. Some of them had their arms extended, and were holding roses in their enclosed fists. Their eyes were blank and hollow, and yet for some reason it was easy to imagine them crying as they stared down at the final resting places of those who had once walked the earth. As she looked all around her she could see several people standing around the graves. Some of them were blowing their noses into handkerchiefs, but many were simply content with staring solemnly as they stood over the white slabs.

It had been exactly 5 years since he died, and yet the thought had come only now; an unwanted visitor in her mind. She had kept it at bay for a long time. Five years ago, it had been in the back of her mind, and yet she pushed it away with her grief and her desire to celebrate her father's life and death. But now that she was slowly getting used to seeing the white gravestone, a morbid curiosity turned into a longing to know where her father was.

She stared at the words which had been inscribed onto the crystalline granite. The lettering read simply "Goodbye, Papa" above the name Delacour, M. The dates beneath the name revealed that the man had lived to be 56 years old. There was an irony in the simplicity of the farewell said to the man who had died serving the wizards of his country. Only two words, but spoken with a jarring finality. She had thought that the passage of time would lessen the weight she felt in her stomach. And yet, now that the question had entered her mind, a wave of fresh sadness washed over her. What had happened to their father after he had died? Had he gone somewhere else. Or was he just... gone? She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. It was her sister Fleur, who suddenly spoke. "Are you okay Gabrielle?" she asked in an affectionate voice.

"Yes, I'm alright" answered Gabrielle. When had it become so easy to keep secrets? When they were young, her older sister had always been a haven to her; someone she could trust with all her feelings. And yet as the years had passed, she had gotten used to keeping everything bottled up inside. She touched the tombstone, running her finger across the lettering on the inscription. Beneath the earth, their father's bones would continue to decompose. Was that really all that remained of him? She looked around again, trying to distract herself from the questions that gnawed at her.

"What are those strange statues?" she asked her sister. Fleur looked surprised as she turned to her to where Gabrielle was pointing.

" Angels. The Muggles call them angels. Bill's father told me" Fleur replied.

"They're kind of scary aren't they? I wonder why the Muggles keep them here" said Gabrielle. She could not shake the eerie feeling she got from the blank eyes and sad lips of the marble statues.

"Are they that scary little sister?" laughed Fleur. Evidently she was not as scared as Gabrielle was.

"Yes they are!" said Gabrielle defensively. Suddenly annoyed at Fleur's chuckling, she asked "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing, Gabrielle." said Fleur, who suddenly had a nostalgic smile on her face. "I just realized, no matter how old you get, you are still Papa's little princesse."

Gabrielle shook her head. She knew that Fleur meant her remark in jest, and yet Fleur did not know how wrong she was. She was not the same little girl anymore. Many things had happened since those days. She was no longer an innocent little child. The world that she faced had made sure of that.

"The angels are supposed to be comforting Gabrielle" said Fleur suddenly.

"What?"

"The statues of angels are supposed to be comforting." repeated Fleur. Gabrielle was taken aback. She privately thought that the statues were many things, but comforting was not one of them.

"How are they comforting?" asked Gabrielle.

"Arthur told me the Muggles believe that the angels take the souls of the dead to the next world."

" The next world?" asked Gabrielle. She had always thought that Muggles were a strange group, but she was suddenly curious. A slew of questions suddenly entered her head. Did Muggles really believe that their dead went to another world after they died? How did they go such a world if their bodies were rotting six feet under the ground? What was a soul? She suddenly noticed that she was feeling better; the weight in her stomach was slowly disappearing. _Maybe their father was not yet gone_.

"Where is that next world? What is it like?". The questions came one after the other, and it was hard to stop herself from voicing them. The smile Fleur gave her was a little too understanding for her liking.

"No one knows Gabbi. No one has gone there before. Only the dead get to know what comes next". said Fleur gently.

"I... I know that." Gabrielle decided to ask questions for the time being. Her sister Fleur might become worried that she was too interested in such depressing matters. Ever since their father died, Fleur had repeatedly stressed to her that it was not good to think too much about death. She suspected that it was because Fleur herself was uncomfortable thinking about her own mortality.

"I heard from Arthur that the Muggles have a name for the next world. He told me they call it Heaven." said Fleur.

"Heaven?"

"Yes, Heaven. The Muggles say that no is ever sad in that place".

"I see" replied Gabrielle. She was surprised to feel a rush of comfort flood her heart. Was it possible that their father really was watching over them from such a beautiful place? Was it possible that he was more than the bones that were underneath the ground, being eaten by worms?

"Do you believe in it?" asked Fleur suddenly. The question surprised Gabrielle. Had Fleur read her mind?

Did she really believe in what Fleur had just told her? Wasn't it likely that it was just a Muggle folktale? It surely was too good to be true. No one knew what lay beyond death. Surely all anyone could possibly know was that when you died, your body would be buried under the ground and left to disintegrate. And yet she could not deny the comfort that she had felt when Fleur had told her what the marble statues were for. It was almost as if she believed them to be real. She suddenly realized that no matter how much she doubted the stories, she could not bring herself to say that they were impossible. She searched for an answer to give to her sister.

"Well, uh..." she stammered.

"Do you?" asked Fleur. She was looking at Gabrielle curiously.

There was nothing else she could do. She had to give her answer _._ "Well", said Gabrielle, "Its like you said, sister. No one has gone to the next world before. Maybe the Muggles are right. ".

Fleur said nothing, but gave her the same understanding smile.

"And maybe they're wrong." she added quickly. Fleur gave a chuckle at her hasty concession.

"Well, I guess you're right sister." said Fleur

They stood in silence. The sky was beginning to slowly darken and turn into night.

"Have you brought flowers for Uncle?" asked Fleur suddenly. _The question she had been dreading_.

"I.. I didn't" she replied.

"I see" said Fleur. She waved her wand, then conjured roses out of the tip, which she laid at the base of the gravestone that was immediately beside their father's. This gravestone simply had a name, Delacour, J and a date beneath. The day of death which was inscribed on the gravestone was the same as their father's although this it was apparent from the dates that the person had lived to be fifty eight.

"I wonder why Uncle Jean was never married", said Fleur softly. "He was such a nice man, wasn't he, Gabbi?"

Gabrielle did not answer. She continued staring down at the gravestone. She wished there was a way to ignore the question without being rude.

"The good, they die young." said Fleur, more to herself than to Gabrielle. Then suddenly, she tapped Gabrielle on the shoulder, then said "Do you remember how he used to get drunk and do silly pranks during reunions? He was quite the comedian, that uncle of ours."

"Yeah." said Gabrielle shortly. The mention of the name had sent a thousand dark memories swirling in her head. She felt her hands curl into fists. She noticed that the sky was beginning the slow descent into darkness. She decided to take advantage.

"It's getting dark. We should go." she said to her sister.

"Yes, you're right Gabbi". agreed Fleur.

As they walked out of the cemetery in silence, her mind became clouded with memories. _A strange, manic, smile. Him beckoning her to follow him. Tears being shed as she looked at herself in the mirror. Self Hatred. Humiliation. All the evil._

"Gabrielle, are you okay?". She felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up to see her sister staring at her with a concerned look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?", asked Fleur.

"It's nothing" replied Gabrielle. She hastily rearranged her features into a smile. Fleur looked unconvinced.

"Gabrielle, if there's a problem you have, any at all, you can tell it to me okay?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine big sister". It had become so easy to lie. Even to her big sister. But she was no Princesse Gabbi anymore. This Gabrielle knew how to lie. In fact, she was good at it.

"Okay Gabbi" said Fleur.

The night had fallen, and as the two sisters made their way to their mother's house to pay her a visit, Gabrielle's head was full of thoughts again. They hearkened back to one evil summer, when everything had changed.


	10. Evil Summer: Gabrielle POV

Today was her eighth birthday. She had gone down into the living room in her pajamas, only to be surprised when a chorus of Happy Birthday sung in French had broken out. Her eyes widened as she scanned the living room. which looked wonderfully festive. It seemed like everyone she knew was here. Her parents, her grandparents, Fleur, all her neighborhood friends. Even her Grandpere, whose wife had recently died, was sitting on a sofa, smiling cheerfully at her. Many of the children were wearing party hats and screaming as they ran across the living room. There were balloons that said "Happy 8th birthday Gabrielle" and pink paper streamers that hung from the walls. There were also pretty flowers that had been placed in vases. And _toy animals everywhere_. _Her favorite things in the whole wide world_. Bowls of chocolates and candy had been placed on the tables. They looked so tasty that she felt an urge to run over to them, scoop them all up in her arms, and spend all day eating them in her room. She looked at them, then down at herself. The mirror in the living room above the sofa told her that her hair was frazzled. And worst of all, she was in her pajamas. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment.

"Happy Birthday, Gabbi!", cried her mother, spreading her arms out for a hug. The rest of the people clapped and whooped vigorously. She suddenly felt shy.

She smiled at the people assembled in the living room sheepishly, then suddenly mumbled "I gotta go change." She ran up the stairs to her bedroom, intent on wearing the pink dress her father had given her two months . This was her birthday. There would be more surprises later, including a large chocolate cake topped with everything from marshmallows to strawberries to fruit loops. And later, after they were full, she and her friends have a chance to go to the park to play games until they were tired and their clothes were dirty. But for now, she had to look good.

Apolline Delacour smiled at the people who had assembled in her living. "Well, everyone, make yourselves at home. If you'll excuse me, I will go help my daughter get ready for her eighth birthday."

* * *

So, who wants to be Snow White? asked the teacher. There was a collective scream of "ME!" as several girls in her class raised their hands excitedly. Today was the day for choosing who would play the role of the princess in the Muggle Fairytale. It was a Beauxbatons tradition to have a school play done by the first years for the parents. This year, they had chosen the Muggle story Snow White. It was a Muggle story about a princess who makes friends with dwarves and falls in love with a handsome prince while running from a stepmother who was jealous of her beauty.

She was having a hard time deciding whether she wanted to raise her hand. Was it better to play the princess, or the fairies? Surely it was better to play the princess, because she got the most screen time. But from what she had heard about the story, the princess spent a good deal of the play asleep. It would not be much fun to pretend to be asleep for most of the play. Maybe it was better to play the fairies.

"Ah I see several hands raised! Let's give them a hand!" said the teacher to applause from the students. "So we have Bella, Frances, Victoire, Marion, Stella. Erza, you want play Snow White too? Wonderful, wonderful. What about you Gabrielle? Don't you want to play the role of Snow White?

She looked around at the room. The class had gone strangely quiet, which was rare. Every face had turned to her, paying rapt attention. She suddenly felt as if the choice had gotten even harder. Did she want to play the princess? It was a Beauxbatons tradition, and her whole family would very likely get to watch it. The thought made her nervous, and yet somehow thrilled her. They would get to watch her play a princess. But could she pull it off?

As she was pondering the question, a vision of her father calling her "princess" entered her mind. She suddenly felt a fierce determination enter her. Yes, her father had called her that. She was a _princess_. Who else could play it better than her?

She raised her hand.

"Ah so Gabrielle wants to play Snow White too! Give her a hand, children!" There was loud applause from the class.

"Okay children, now you will decide amongst yourselves who gets to play the role of Snow White! Is that okay?" said the teacher.

"Yes teacher" a chorus of voices said in reply.

"So who votes for Bella to play the role of Snow white?"

Not a single hand was raised. Bella's eyes were filled with tears.

"How about Frances?"

Still no one raised their hand. Frances, who had been excitedly looking at the class, curled her lips into a pout, folded her arms and refused to look at the class.

"Okay class. Who wants Victoire to play Snow White?" asked the teacher, who was looking visibly miffed at the fact that she would have several crying girls on her hands once class was over.

The same result followed. Victoire's expectant face fell comically.

The teacher, who was looking increasingly worried at the downtrodden faces of the girls who had not garnered a single vote, decided to take action.

"Okay then children. So it seems that this class has a candidate in mind. So tell me, who do you guys want to see play the role of Snow White?"

Louis, a blonde curly haired boy who was the most talkative in the class, piped up.

"Gabrielle!". A murmur of unanimous agreement accompanied his declaration.

"Well, it looks like we have a winner! cried the teacher. "Gabrielle will play Snow White in the school play! Let's give her a round of applause!" There was loud disorganized clapping that came from the class. Several boys whooped and banged their desks.

Gabrielle, who had not said a word up until then, merely smiled. _Of course I won._ she thought privately. _I am a princess. Papa said so._

* * *

The bile tasted sour in her mouth as she looked in the mirror. Her body began to tremble, and hot tears began to flow as an unfamiliar feeling began to overcome her. She continued staring at the reflection in the mirror. What was that expression on her face? Her eyes were puffy, and soon she was shaking uncontrollably. A flurry of emotions threatened to overcome her. It felt like she wanted to burst. She stared back at the girl in the mirror. The reflection's had eyes that were red from crying; its small hands were balling into fists. Why was the person in the mirror staring back at her with an expression of pure disgust? The fists curled, and suddenly pain coursed through her knuckles as the reflection threw a feeble awkward punch at her. She had never thrown a punch before in her life. _It hurt_ _so badly._ She continued to slam her fist onto the mirror as the tears flowed.

She tried to replay what had just happened in her head. The image of the strange smile on his face, and the feeling of his hands touching her, he had was all engraved into her mind. She would never be able to forget it, no matter how hard she tried. The feeling of fear, raw fear, even though she alone. And confusion. She was confused even though she remembered what had just happened perfectly well. Why had her uncle done that to her? The images flashed in her head vividly, making the bile rise in her throat again. _Helpless. That has how she had felt. Helpless_. She shook her head and tried furiously to rid her mind of them, to go to a place where she could not think, could not feel.

* * *

"Papa, I got the role!", squealed Gabrielle excitedly. She ran to her father, who was sitting in the living room, and embraced him.

"Role of what, Gabbi?" said the pot-bellied Monsieur Delacour. He smiled at his daughter widely, and embraced her back.

"The princess! Snow White! For the school play!" she screamed, a little too loudly. Her father smiled and put up a finger to his mouth, and she quieted down, embarrassed.

"That's wonderful, my princess! I knew you could do it! Papa is so proud of you! I'll tell your mother later when she gets home! When is this play? Will it be at your school?"

"Yes papa. We will be using magic for the props! Oh I'm so excited!"

"Not more excited than your father, my princess!. I'll tell Apolline when she gets home! Your mama and papa will be there to watch you! You can count on it sweetheart!".

"Thank you papa!". She was giddy with excitement. _She was going to be a star_. A big bright star, bright as the sun. And so many people would be there, clapping for her.

"Now who is the lucky boy that gets to play the prince?" asked Monsieur Delacour.

"Charles got the role papa. Oh you should have seen the voting. It was terrible. The boys were all crying afterwards."

"Crying? Why were they crying?"

"All of them wanted the role so bad you see. They started fighting. Louis, and Francois and Charles and all the others. Charles got the role because he cried the loudest. The teacher was crying afterwards as well. Boys are really strange aren't they papa?"

She was surprised when her father started laughing heartily. It was a loud infectious laugh, and it made her laugh as well. What had she said that was so funny?

"That's my princess! They all wanted to play the prince didn't they? This is what I get for having such a pretty daughter. Barely out of her diapers and boys are fighting over her already!

"EEW! I don't like boys papa! They're dirty and weird! "

"Even your dear papa my princess? Is papa dirty and weird too?"

"Ahm... no" Gabrielle replied sheepishly.

Her father laughed again, while patting her head fondly. Then he lowered his head so that his face was level with hers, and gently spoke.

"Don't let them worry you my dear princess. The price of being beautiful is that people will fight over you. You just focus on your role."

Gabrielle wondered what her father meant. Fight over her? She didn't like fighting.

"Will they hurt me papa? " she asked. "

Her father's face suddenly grew serious. But when he spoke, it was with the same gentle, warm voice.

"Of course not Gabrielle. No one would ever dare to hurt you."

* * *

In the days after the incident, there were times when she wondered, was it her fault that he had acted that way?

Was it because of her veela allure, that he had that strange look in his eyes? After all, she had never heard of him acting that way around anybody else. He was considered by her family to be an upright man, of good moral stature. He had no record of behaving indecently around anyone else. Was there something about her, which drove him to such madness? What else could it be, but the effects of her being a veela? Hadn't Fleur told her about this several times? But why hadn't this sort of thing happened to Fleur before? Or even their mother?

 _"You're such a pretty little thing, especially for a twelve year old. I can't stop thinking about you"._ Hadn't he said that?

Maybe her allure was different. Maybe she was different. Instead of making men want to be on their best behavior, maybe her powers made men expose the darkness that festered in their hearts.

The thought of it hit her like a punch in her gut. She walked over to the mirror in her room. She stared into her own blue eyes, as they began filling with tears like they so often did lately.

The summer she turned twelve. It had been an evil summer.

* * *

"He.. He's dead. Papa. He's dead". Fleur was crying, inconsolable. Her eyes were red, and she was trembling. The grief was palpable; it was almost as if she could feel the sadness radiating from her sister.

"Dead. But.. but how?". She did not, would not believe it. It couldn't be. He was so young. He could not have gone. There were still so many things she wanted to tell him. He could not be dead.

"It... it's not true. It can't be... Fleur, tell me its not true".

It couldn't be true. But why did the look on her sister's face tell her otherwise?

Cold, harsh reality came crashing down on her. Fleur couldn't be lying. _Their father was dead_.

"It... they said it was during a raid. They got into a fight with some criminals trafficking illegal magic artifacts. They died during the fight. He was with uncle. Uncle Jean died in the fight too. Oh Gabbi!" cried Fleur as she hugged Gabrielle tighter.

Grief, so painful as to almost be unbearable. The pain was real, so real that she felt it in her bones. She wanted the world to stop spinning.

Was this really happening?

* * *

Today was her eighth birthday.

"Say hello to all your relatives Gabbi!" said Apolline Delacour in her musical voice. Gabrielle found herself shyly saying hello to what seemed like a never ending list of people, all of whom shook her hand or gave her a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head.

Did she really have so many relatives?

Suddenly, a low, masculine voice spoke.

"You have a beautiful daughter, Apolline."

She looked up and saw a tall, middle aged blonde man smiling at her. He was holding a cup of coffee, and he waved at her as she looked at him.

"Thank you Jean." replied her mother. "Gabrielle, say hello to your uncle Jean."

Gabrielle smiled shyly and said "Hello, Uncle Jean. its nice to meet you."

The tall man smiled warmly back at her. "Hello Gabrielle. Nice to meet you too"

He turned to her mother, then still smiling, said "She looks just like you."


	11. Heart's Desire

"So Colin, you're gonna be covering the Ministry of Magic versus Angry Goblins case tomorrow?" asked Dennis Creevey.

"Yeah, I guess. I heard a delegation of important Goblin leaders was coming over to the ministry. Apparently it's a pretty big case to them. Who knew a strange mirror was worth so much?" answered Colin.

"Hey, its not just a strange mirror. Remember, we still don't know what it does. We don't know it's magical powers or anything."

"Well, I guess I'll find out soon enough. They're letting the media in on the case this time."

"Of course they would Colin. Gives the Wizards claiming it the edge in the case if the media covering it is inherently biased. The Ministry has a dog in this fight. Honestly, I don't know why the Goblins are pushing through with filing this crazy case. There are all sorts of magical stuff made by them that have passed into Wizarding Hands. This mirror can't be the only thing they've been bothered about. "

"Well, I heard that the recently appointed minister has vowed to follow Magical Law to the hilt when he was appointed. And apparently there's a law about certain types of items that Goblins have a right to. It makes me even more interested in this mirror of yours. You get hold of some interesting stuff at your job"

"What can I say, I joined for the thrill. So anyway, since you're gonna be there, you make sure to tell me what the mirror does all right?"

"Yeah I will. So are you going somewhere else tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Someplace in Asia. New job that Gringotts gave me. Be there for a couple of months I guess"

"I see."

"Why'd you ask?"

"Nothing. Its just, I was wondering if you were gonna spend Christmas here."

"I see. Wow, its already October. Means Christmas is just around the corner huh? Time sure flies."

"Yeah."

Colin looked his brother in the face. He knew that his brother understood what he wanted to tell him. They had not seen each other during Christmas time ever since they had graduated from Hogwarts. He felt a tinge of embarrassment at himself; this wasn't what grown wizards were supposed to do was it? And yet he could not shake the feeling that for once, he would like a little more conversation in his house during the holidays.

Dennis smiled, then patted him on the shoulder.

"I'll write a letter to you if I can make it."

* * *

The courtroom was a huge dungeon, made of dark stone, and dimly lit by magical torches. On the top benches sat several shadowy figures, who Colin realized were the judges the Wizengamot had appointed to decide on the case. They were old, wizened men, who stared at the proceedings intently. In the middle of the front row was the newly appointed Minister of Magic, who was sitting in his chair giving off an air of imperturbable calm. Several other witches and wizards surrounded him, including one who Colin realized was Percy Weasley, Ron's brother. Off to the side of them were around five or six goblins who all sat together, with intense scowls on their faces.

In the middle of the courtroom were two tables, with two seats each placed in front of them. Occupying one of the tables were two goblins, one of whom Colin realized was Griphook, the Goblin who accompanied wizards to their vaults in Gringotts. Seated beside him was a goblin with an unusually full head of hair neatly combed to the side. The effect was almost comical, although it was clear that this was an attempt on the Goblin's part to look impressive in the courtroom.

 _Must_ _be a Goblin Lawyer,_ thought Colin to himself as he continued to snap pictures.

Seated at the other table was an aged, rather oily haired man in a dark suit, who Colin vaguely recognized as working in Knockturn Alley. He was twiddling his thumbs nervously, seemingly intimidated by the large courtroom. On one side was a middle aged, balding man, with large glasses, wearing a suit and tie. On his other side was a thin, wispy haired wizard.

The Minister's voice suddenly boomed over the dungeon.

"The Hearing will now begin"

The crowd fell silent, and every eye was upon the minister. He was a tall, thin man, whose voice gave off an air of calm even when it rang in their ears.

"We are here today to preside over the dispute between two parties over the ownership of a magical item. The Parties involved are as follows: the defendant, Mr Borgin, owner of Borgin and Burkes shop in Knockturn Alley, versus Griphook, of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Let us now begin the opening statement of the prosecution.

The goblin seated beside Griphook stood up, then walked closer to the bench where the Minister sat. He gazed up at the interrogators, who were watching him with stone-faced expressions, took a deep breath, and began to speak

"Your Excellency, the wizards and witches of the jury, the defendant has been charged with involvement in an illegal transaction involving a magical item. The evidence will show that the defendant bought a type II magical item from a goblin who was not an authorized representative of Gringotts bank. This is in blatant violation of The Decree for the Restriction of Illegal Transactions involving Magical items, which very clearly states that it is illegal to purchase magical items from parties who were not in legal possession of them at the time of the transaction. The item in question was retrieved from Africa by Gringotts Curse Breakers, and is the workmanship of Ragnuk, a known goblin worksmith who was deceased several years ago. It is, according to the Wizarding Constitution, therefore the property of goblins as represented by Gringotts, and is not to be sold unless Gringotts sees it fit to do so. "

"What's a type II item?" asked Colin to a co-worker who was standing next to him.

"A kind of item that should be returned to the Gringotts Goblins once the person who bought it from them dies" answered the co-worker.

"Why is it this big a deal?"

"It's a big part of the new constitution. Wizards have learned since that last war to have a little more respect for goblins."

Satisfied with the explanation, Colin turned his attention back to the Goblin lawyer, who was apparently finishing his opening statement"

"Therefore, the prosecution requests that such a grave violation of the law which could have resulted in the undermining of wizard-goblin relations be met with punishment. At the very least, it is fitting and proper that Mr Borgin's shop be closed and his license to operate in Knockturn alley be revoked". finished the goblin, in an impressive tone.

The balding man stood up as well. He walked to the middle of the courtroom, with an air of being at ease, and began to speak.

"Your Excellency, the wizards and witches of the jury, I do not deny the transaction involving this magical item. Neither do I deny that it was bought from a goblin who was not a representative of Gringotts Bank at the time. However, I do deny the charge leveled against my client by the prosecution, which is that he was found in violation of the Decree for the Restriction of Illegal Transactions involving Magical Items. My client has not purchased an item under the category of type II Magical items at all. A type II Magical item is an item that is mandated by law to be returned to authorized Goblin Representatives of Gringotts after the witch or wizard who bought it, known as the "renter", has been deceased. This point, however, is where we find the charge of the prosecution wanting.

Colin managed to snap a photo of Griphook and his lawyer gripping their chairs, their knuckles white. The magic camera would be able to capture them trembling slightly. The tension in the air thickened even more.

"One of the primary requirements for an item to be classified as a type II Magical Item is that its maker must be a goblin". However, we have found credible evidence that the maker of the item in question is in fact, a wizard. Multiple wizards in fact.

Angry shouts resonated in the courtroom as the goblins sitting in the stands began shouting furiously at the balding lawyer. One goblin, who seemed to have the loudest voice of them all, screamed "Liar!" repeatedly at the top of his voice. The noise got the attention of the jury. who watched the proceedings with alarm.

The Minister of Magic, who seemed unperturbed, raised his wand to his throat,and spoke in a booming voice that was loud enough to drown out the din.

" **SILENCE**!"

The loud shouts disappeared suddenly, as the goblins forced themselves back onto their chairs, but their faces were even more mutinous as they sat down.

The Minister continued on, in the same modified voice.

"We will have order during the proceedings, with or without our goblin friends, who must behave themselves if they wish to extend their invitation to this trial." said the Minister, in a calm but firm tone. A silence pregnant with tension accompanied his words. The Minister gestured to the lawyer, who looked smugly pleased at what has just transpired, to continue.

"Reliable sources inform us that the Selwyn family, which has always had an important legacy in Magical Innovation, are the true makers of this item. Thus, the accusations of the prosecution are proven to be baseless and unfounded."

"Tell us,"; A large, dark skinned wizard spoke suddenly, in a low, impressive voice; " What is the name of this item? What are its properties?"

" The item in question is called the Mirror of Erised". replied the lawyer. "It is a mirror whose known magical property is showing those who look into it the objects of their desire. Many of the people who have stared into it for extended amounts of time have been left by their sanity. It appears that it has recently enchanted to be sentient, that is, it moves around and traverse space on its own accord from time to time. That is how it has been ending up in different places. There are certain spells however, that can keep it in place. It is now kept here in the Ministry of Magic through that method. In one of the Departments "

"The Mirror of Erised?" repeated the dark-skinned wizard slowly, as if he was unsure of how it was pronounced. " And it shows the desires of a person's heart. I see, I see. How valuable" He sank back into his seat, looking thoughtful. Most of the audience seemed impressed,

"I would like to remind everybody present that the pertinent topic here is the argument of the defense as to as to why the item in question is not a type II magical item", boomed the Minister. The audience, brought back to their senses by his voice, quieted down.

The balding lawyer waited for several seconds, then continued his explanation. "We accept of course, that the goblins had a hand in the creation of the Mirror of Erised. However, their role was primarily physical labor involving cutting and shaping, as well as applying the reflective material. The enchantments, however, that are the cause of the Mirror's powers are the work of the Selwyn Family. Therefore, while the mirror itself is the work of Goblins, the Mirror of Erised is the creation of Wizards. We therefore argue, on these grounds, that no violation to any decree of magical property has been committed.

The balding lawyer stopped, apparently for impressive effect, then continued. " The man sitting at next to defendant is John Selwyn, a member of the aforementioned Selwyn Family. He has brought documents to certify that the Mirror of Erised was the result of the experimentation of his grandfather, Jacob Selwyn.

"Is this true, Mr Selwyn?" asked the dark skinned wizard to the thin wispy haired wizard sitting next to Mr Borgin.

"Yes, your honor. I have it all here in my grandfather's diary. It appears that they commissioned a goblin named Ragnuk to create a mirror out of the finest and most magic-conducive raw materials. The effects of the spells, however, appears to have taken effect after his death. They seemed to think that their experiments had failed, and thus left in the Goblin Ragnuk's possession."

"I see, I see. Very well, leave the diary in the hands of the court so that it may be studied."

Colin looked around at the goblins sitting on the benches. It was quite clear that they were not convinced by the lawyer's reasoning. Their fury was palpable; many of them were trembling in their seats as the discussion was proceeding.

The goblin lawyer spoke, with a note of fury that he evidently could not suppress in every syllable. "Your Honor, it has been been stated very clearly in the Constitution that the laws on ownership would be based on mutual respect of the cultures of wizards and goblins. To endorse this reasoning is a grave violation of that respect. It would threaten the very fabric of goblin-wizard relations.

The goblins all seemed to be in agreement at this, and were nodding their heads vigorously. The jury sat in their seats looking uncomfortable. To his side, Colin sensed that his co-workers were shifting restlessly. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife.

 _This is going to take longer that I thought it would,_ thought Colin to himself.

* * *

It was 7:00 at night when the court session ended. The halls of the Ministry of Magic were suddenly infused with people as wizards, witches, and the occasional goblin began to make their way home. It was the first day of December, and a cold breeze wafted through the building. Snow was beginning to fall all over the city, and the Wizarding World was not exempted.

It had been one of the strangest court trials that Colin had ever been a part of. The trial had started in the morning, gone well past afternoon and into nighttime, with several very long breaks in between. These long breaks had been ordered because of several outbreaks that had disrupted the proceedings. Several arguments had erupted between goblins who felt that they were being disrespected in court and wizards who thought the goblins were being quite uncivilized. There were a few near fistfights, and the occasional wand being drawn out. Several hours later, it had been decided that there would be another session scheduled the next week. Colin thought this was a good idea, as there did not seem to be an end in sight. It was now only an hour before the whole Ministry of Magic Building would close for the night. He was in the office, packing his things and getting ready to go home, when a voice suddenly spoke

"You going home Colin?"

Colin gave a start, surprised by the voice. He looked up and saw that it was Wesley, who was nicknamed "Wes" at the office. He was one of the newer employees at the office. Wesley was a stocky, red haired man, with a beer belly. Although he was a nice man and generally well liked, he was called "Tin-Hat Wes" because of his penchant for believing strange stories, especially about the Ministry of Magic. Colin had always wanted to ask Wes why he worked for the Daily Prophet if he sincerely believed the Ministry of Magic was a corrupt organization that poisoned Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans to control the minds of the Wizarding Populace.

"Yeah I am Wes. You?" replied Colin

"Yeah I am. Can't keep the wife and kids waiting too long."

"I see. I didn't know you had a family Wes."

"Yeah I do. Two kids. Haven't been home much. Christmas season right around the corner too."

"Oh. You work hard."

"It's not just work. I've got other stuff on my mind."

"Like what?"

Wes smiled. "Defying the Wizarding political elite of course."

Colin was unable to think of a reply to this, and merely made a noise that sounded like "Oh"

Wes continued to smile. "Interesting thing they're fighting over eh? Mirror of Eris whatchacallit? Shows a person his heart's desire. Well that's a grand way to say it"

It was certainly interesting, thought Colin. There were many things he desired for himself, didn't he? An image of his mother smiling at him passed through his mind, gone as quickly as it had come.

"What do you think you'd see in you looked in that mirror?" asked Colin.

The smile playing on Wes' face grew even larger. "Fire." he answered, as if the very thought of it was unspeakable joy.

"Fire?" repeated Colin. That seemed like a strange desire to have. Maybe because it was winter?

"Yeah. Fire. Duels. Rampaging centaurs. Giants stomping men like cockroaches. Its _war,_ Colin. The overthrow of the whole existing order. The glorious revolution."

Colin suddenly became aware of his jaw hanging. "What?" he said.

"That's my desire kiddo. To see the Ministry of Magic here in England be overthrown by the people and magical minorities. Its useless, and doesn't serve anyone except pure-bloods anymore. Not even a bit."

"But don't you have a wife and kids? Where do they figure into all this? asked Colin, who was shocked.

'They're gonna sit at home while the fighting's going on I guess. They stand to benefit from it"

"In what way?"

"Listen, the whole of the Ministry of Magic is corrupt and inefficient. All this nonsense about the new Constitution and the Wizarding World becoming more accepting, I don't buy a word of it. Look at the goblins, being screwed over in court. Its still the same old thing. Purebloods and powerful magical families get the biggest piece of the pie. They take all the decent paying jobs, for one thing. You know how many times I've been passed over for promotion here in this place? 5 times. Same old excuse about how my work was good but not good enough. But pureblood slackers who can't even show up on time get promoted over me? And I'm the one who needs it the most. I've got a family. My stupid job can barely pay the bills. I've had my share of ketchup meals. Magic can't create food remember? Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."

"What?"

"It's true Colin. And all this nonsense about kindness to minorities and creatures You know that they're still debating whether half-veelas are human? Debating whether any of them should be allowed into the schools at all. Elves are still treated like scum. And don't get me started on all the abuse Squibs have taken. I should know. My daughter is a squib. I'm the one who has to comfort her every time she cries about some bully. Once she was even sent a cursed necklace. I had to take her to St Mungo's. She nearly died. Spent all my salary on the treatment. I tried to report it to the wizarding authorities, and you know what they said? They said, Sir, we are sorry but the perpetrator is the son of a very important pure-blooded Ministry official."

"Wes, I..." Colin searched for something to say, but found he had none. He had not known this about his co-worker. Wes never spoke about his personal life in the office.

"Well enough about me. What about you eh?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. What would you see in the mirror?".

Colin had known this question was coming, but an answer still eluded him. _What do I really want?_ , He thought to himself. Was it success at his job? Was it for their family to be whole again?

"I guess, I'd see... myself" he finished lamely.

"Yourself?" asked Wes, in a tone that told Colin that he was unimpressed by the answer.

"Yeah, I'm pretty happy about myself right now", lied Colin. He was embarrassed by it, and yet he knew that he could not answer the question truthfully.

"Somehow, I doubt that..." muttered Wes.

Colin merely shrugged.

"Well anyway, since I feel you're not being true to yourself," said Wes, "let me tell you something interesting."

"What is it?" asked Colin. Was this another conspiracy theory?

Wes leaned in closer to Colin, and said in a low voice: "They're keeping quiet about where the Mirror is. Cause they don't want any itchy fingers stealing it, and in any case, its dangerous. Plenty of people have gone mad in the past few weeks just looking into it. But i managed to find out where it is."

"Wha-"

"Don't ask me how. But I know where it is okay? It's in the empty room in the department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Room 301. There's a huge sign. You won't miss it. "

"What are you talking about? I'm not going there! That thing is kept there for a reason!. Its dangerous! People went mad looking at it! Besides, the building is closing soon!

"Yeah and so what? Its a once in a lifetime chance. They might never let that mirror out on the market again. Listen the only thing they did to the door is lock it. Lock it! In a place full of wizards! You have as good a chance as anybody. You'll be able to see who you really are. See what you really want out of life. I'd take the chance if I were you."

"Yeah well why don't you do it?"

"Like I said, I know what I want okay? It's in my mind's eye all the time. You ,Colin, you're a naive little bugger. You won't admit to yourself your true desires. So go look at that mirror. And tell me what you see next Monday.

Wes had already packed his things and was walking towards the door.

"Wait!" Colin called after him. "Where are you going?"

Wes smiled again. "Gotta get home to the wifey."

* * *

Colin breathed long and hard as he walked down the steps to the corridor which held the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. The corridor was still lighted but he could hear the echo of his footsteps in the silence. It was eerily quiet in the corridor, leading to the room, and he felt his heart beat fast, as he came closer and closer to his destination. Were those light footsteps that he was hearing?

Colin stopped and looked around. _I'm not sneaking around_ , he would tell the person who would see him. He had simply forgotten something in one of the rooms. He strained his ears, trying to discern from the sound where the other person was. The sound of footsteps had disappeared. Maybe he had imagined them.

Colin did not know what he would see in the mirror, but he could not deny his own curiosity, a curiosity that he himself could not understand. It was simply a mirror, a mirror with magical properties just like the many enchanted mirrors in shops all around the Wizarding World. And yet, a mirror that showed his greatest desires? What would he see? There were all sorts of possibilities. What did he want most right now? What surprises did this mirror hold?

His brother's voice began ringing in his ears. " _He was just staring like a weirdo at the mirror. Like he couldn't take his eyes off it_ ". What if he was reduced to that same shell as well. An unthinking, unfeeling, mindless husk, left to drool forever at an image that wasn't even real? Was it worth it?

" _Ah but you're much stronger than a random muggle criminal. You're a wizard Colin_!" spoke a different voice. This voice seemed to come from him and him alone. He felt a rush of curiosity hit him once more. Surely one look, one small solitary peek, it surely could not hurt...

His feet led him to room with an sign on it which read: "Room 301". His trembling hands reached for the handle, tried to turn. The room was locked. Hadn't Wes told him that? He pulled out his wand and muttered " _Alohomora_ ". He heard a click, and realized that the door was now unlocked. He entered the room. He tried to turn on the light switch, but it seemed to not be working.

Colin raised his wand and muttered, " _Lumos_ ". The dim light that his wand gave off allowed him to see the room. It was large and square, with several items he could not recognize strewn across the floor. It was also quite dusty, and seemed to be unused. Where was the mirror? He moved his wand to the left, and saw nothing but the wall. He slowly surveyed the room, and finally saw, tucked away in the far corner, a large ornate mirror. His heart was beating faster and faster. A feeling of foreboding coursed through him. What was he doing here? This was dangerous, and he would be in trouble if someone caught him. He might even lose his job at the Ministry. He could turn around now. There was still time. He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes until eight. There was still time to turn back and go home.

Yet, although he could not explain it, the mirror seemed to be beckoning to him. He could almost imagine hands reaching out, asking him to come closer. He felt his feet move, as though he was not in control of his body anymore. He was walking, no, he was being pulled to the front of the mirror. He was so close, to it. Several feet away, He could see his arm and his left leg in the reflection now. It was coming into focus. What would he see? Maybe what he told Wes in the office was true. Maybe he really was satisfied with himself the way he was. He was coming closer and closer. He was in front of the mirror, standing five feet away.

He stared into his reflection for a moment, and then the image transformed into something else.

 _His heart's greatest desire_.


	12. Chapter 12

For one long moment, he stared face-to-face with his own reflection in the mirror. He could see the Colin in the mirror stare back at him, standing nervously, trembling slightly as if afraid of something that was going to happen. Time seemed to be moving slower. Was this all there was to see? Had he been right when he had told his co-worker that he was satisfied with himself already? Was the the Mirror of Erised, an item that had been labeled as dangerous against the Ministry of Magic itself, powerless against Colin Creevey? This could not be all there was to see surely. If he was so happy with himself, why did the person look the mirror look so sad and nervous?

And then suddenly, the image changed. As if calmed by some unknown turn of events, a new expression enveloped his reflection's face . The mouth curved upwards, into a natural, easy going smile. The reflection stood up straighter, chest out, and broke eye contact with Colin, so that they were no longer looking into each other's eyes. It had its eyes fixed on something above him, something that Colin could not see.

There was something strange about the smile that was seeing on his own face. It seemed to him that the easy-going, bright-eyed smile was something foreign, something new to him. Did he ever smile like that? Was this the first time that such an expression had shown on his face? When was the last time he had been that happy? And why had his reflection's clothes changed into a tuxedo?

He felt, confused, afraid, and yet, he also felt curious. What was going on?

Figures were forming around the Colin that was smiling in the mirror. The outlines of what seemed to be three people, somewhat blurry at first, but slowly coming into focus. They seemed to be standing on a clean white floor. The first shape that Colin could make out was that of a hand, placed on the shoulder of his smiling reflection. Then suddenly, the figure became clearer and clearer. He could make out creamy white arms, slim but not fragile. He could tell that the figure was a woman. A swirl of blood red suddenly shaped itself into the makings of a long, flowing dress. Long, brown hair began to form slowly, as being being drawn slowly on a canvas by an artist. As the rest of the body began to take shape, a strange feeling began to overtake Colin. He knew who this person was.

The next few moments told him he was right.

The face was the last part of her to form. Large brown eyes, warm and alight with happiness. An aquiline nose. A dazzling smile on her full lips. Her visage seemed to light up the dark room as she glowed with unmistakable health. Had she ever looked like this? He could not remember. Maybe when he was young.

Rose Creevey looked exactly how she did before her husband left.

The next person was easier to identify. It was his brother, Dennis. He looked exactly as he did at present, standing in the same confident stance. He wore a black suit with a a bowtie, His eyes were bright as he smiled back at Colin.

The final person to form was was a stocky, blond man with broad shoulders and a large belly who stood behind Dennis. He wore the same black suit as Dennis. The large hands, and the scars etched on his face, gave the impression of a man who was used to manual labor. And yet he was clean shaven, and there was none of the quarrelsomeness or roughness that his face usually carried. His face was kinder, and his expression just as warm and gentle as the other three.

Ever since he had left, Colin had always thought that he had hated his father. His father had left them for no clear reason. It wasn't that they couldn't survive without him. Their mother had been able to survive on her own and Hogwarts had taken care of him and Dennis. But his departure was so shocking because he had always thought that they would always be together as a family. They were a normal family, just like any other in England. They had their disagreements, and times were sometimes hard, but they always made sure to fix them in the end. Colin had always thought that there was nothing the Creevey family could not overcome.

He could not understand what had happened when one morning, he saw his mother crying in the kitchen. He could remember coming close to her, feeling as though he was going to cry himself although there was no reason to cry yet. He had asked her why she was crying, and at first, she did not respond. He stayed beside, patting her shoulder, until finally, he had asked the question.

"Mom, where's Dad?"

The question seemed to bring her back to her senses. She began to stop crying. Wiping her eyes, she slowly looked at him, and he could see that her eyes were red and swollen. She swallowed, then with much effort, began to say words that he would not forget, even to this day.

"Gone... He's gone." That was how he would think of his father in the years to come. He was _gone_. A gone dad. Being gone defined him.

But as he looked into the mirror, he realized that no matter how angry he was at his father, he would do anything see him in the kitchen, laughing with his mother as they danced to the music being played by the old cassette player they kept in their home. It was close to being destroyed, but Colin and Dennis had used magic to keep it functioning.

The happy family of four continued to smile at the invisible photographer. They were now standing on a white tiles that seemed strangely familiar to Colin. He thought hard, trying to remember where he had seen the white tile floor before. There were flowers on a nearby vase behind them. Roses. His mother's favorite. Wasn't the vase familiar as well?

It hit him suddenly, and forcefully. _This was their house_.

Colin tried to speak, but no sound came out at first.

"Mom? Dad?" he finally croaked.

It was as though they had noticed him for the first time. Their eyes were drawn to him, their smiles never changing. He looked into his mother's eyes as she began to speak.

"Colin. You're grown into such a handsome young boy." Her voice was musical. He had not heard her speak like this for such a long time. He was used to hearing her either scream or grunt.

"He's grown big hasn't he? I missed this little guy." spoke his father. A wave of emotion welled up inside him; he felt unsure of what to say. He had almost forgotten what his father's voice sounded like. The distinctive twang brought Colin back to a time when he was smaller, and everything was much simpler.

He suddenly found his voice; he could not be silent at a time like this. He had so many things to say.

'Miss me? Why would you miss me? You left us!" he heard himself say. He had waited for so long for this time to come. He felt a strong temptation to punch the mirror. But no, he could not break the glass that held his parents.

His father continued to smile, but it was a different sort of smile this time. Somehow, his smile only radiated sadness and regret. Colin could see tears in his eyes.

"Yeah. I left you. I was a right idiot didn't I?" his father choked out. Colin had never seen him like this before. Their father taught them to never cry.

"I left you guys. Me and your mom, we had a tough time working things out. But it doesn't mean I never loved you. I missed you and Dennis. I kept thinking about you guys. I wanted to see you so badly. It was tough on you, it was even tougher on me you know that? Some nights I'd stay up, I'd wondering how you guys were, what you were doing. Kept wondering what you looked like. You've grown into a good kid son. Might not mean much but I'm proud of you."

"Why didn't you come back then?" asked Colin. He was choking as well. He fought back the hot tears, but failed to keep his composure. He couldn't stop himself. He was such a weakling.

" I didn't know if you guys would take me back. I figured you had moved on with your lives, and me coming back would just complicate that. I wanted to. I knew I'd made a mistake. But I'm here son. I'm back now."

Those last three words swept powerfully over Colin. His dad was back? Was it really going to be this easy?

But then, was the person in the mirror really his Dad? It was just an illusion wasn't it? All of the figures in the mirror were just illusions. But if it was just an illusion, why did they all seem so real? As if he could really touch them, smell them, feel their presence just a few feet from where he stood?

"What... what do you mean you're back? This isn't real is it? You... you aren't really there!"

"It's as real as it needs to be son. And I'm as real as anyone else. Your mother, Dennis, we're all here. Only person that's not real is this person standing next to us. But you can change all that. Come over here son. You can take his place in the picture. And after we take it, we can catch up. You and me and Dennis. I wanna get to know you son. You and your brother. I wanna see what my little boys have grown into."

His mother spoke up again. "Colin, come over here and be with your family. The Colin that you see here, he is nothing but an illusion. A copy of the real thing. He can easily be replaced. You are the real Colin. We want you to complete our family picture. It's been so long since we've been complete Colin. We're so close to being whole again. Come over here. We're real Colin. Me and your Dad and Dennis. Just come over here to where we're standing."

"Can I really do it?" asked Colin, although he already knew the answer. His family had stopped being images in a strange mirror a long time ago. It was strange, because he could still see the ornate mirror. The distinctive markings around it. And yet, he felt as if he what he was looking at was not glass but reality. His family was real, just as real as him. And he felt as if he could count how many steps he needed to take on the white tile floor until he reached where his reflection was standing.

His mother smiled, then reached out and extended her hand to him. He could see it coming closer. It was warm, living flesh, and it was covering space. It could reach out past the glass that separated them. It was only a few feet away. He would be able to touch it, if only he walked a little closer...

"It's easy Colin. Take hold of my hand. Come my son. See? I'm real. Don't be afraid of me Colin. I'm your mother. "

He really wanted to rush into the mirror, arms wide open, and hug them all. But something held him back. Why did he feel as though he would be leaving something behind if he took her hand?

Colin took a deep breath. He felt nervous. But he also knew that what lay beyond that mirror was everything he had ever wanted. He would never ever have a single nightmare again.

He took his first step.

Then a second.

Then a third.

Why was his fourth step much slower? Why why was his right hand lagging behind? And why did he feel as though it was already holding on to something?

He took another step, and he could feel his shoulder extend to full length. He could not move anymore. Someone was pulling him back with all their might. He wanted to turn his head, and see who was pulling him back. But he dared not turn his head away from the mirror because he feared that his family would disappear if he did.

 _He was holding someone's hand._

It was a soft, fragile hand, with a weak grip. The fingers were slender, and felt delicate. It was a girl, or a woman, pulling him back.

He could hear something, a barely audible voice calling out something. It seemed like it was calling out his name. It was the voice of a girl. Was the girl crying? Why was she crying? There was no need to cry right now. He was going to be with his family.

He looked into his mother's face. Her expression seemed to be pleading now. His father and brother had the same look as well.

"Please my son... We miss you so much." His mother seemed to be begging now.

He had to go over to them.

"Let me go.. please.." he told his captor. "I need to be with my family"

He heard her speak clearly somehow.

"Its not real Colin. Please. Wake up. Its not real"

Not real? How could she say that when the truth was right in front of them?

 **"Let go of me!"**

He wrenched his arm away forcefully from the girl behind him. He felt his elbow graze her chin, and he dimly registered the sound she made at the contact. But he could not stop to say sorry. Maybe he could do that later. After the picture was taken. What mattered was that he could take his mother's hand...

Maybe he should really say sorry? The girl sounded like she was hurt. He did not want to hurt her.

His mother was beckoning frantically. She was so close he could feel her already. She had never been admitted to the rehab center after all. His father was coming back now. It had all been a bad dream...

"COLIN!"

The scream filled his eardrums, and he felt as though a haze had been lifted from the room. Suddenly he was able to look away from the mirror and look her straight in the face.

His jaw dropped, and for one moment, he forgot all about the Mirror of Erised.

Her blue eyes were wide open with fear and confusion. Her lips was trembling, she was breathing hard, and she stared apprehensively as if worried that he was going to hurt her. She looked fragile, vulnerable. And yet he could also feel worry and concern emanating from her.

What in the world was Gabrielle Delacour doing here?


	13. Living

"What the hell are you doing here!" he shouted. It felt strange to shout at her. He could feel his own conscience protesting, and yet his surprise and confusion got the better of him. He could feel himself breathing heavily, and he was sweating. He felt as if he had just run a thousand miles. He had not expected this at all. He had not expected anything that was happening lately.

Gabrielle looked as if she was about to answer, but then suddenly, she seemed to think better of it. She took a moment to look him in the face, then suddenly subsided into scarlet-faced silence.

Was she always like this?

"What did you see me doing?" he asked, his voice soft. Maybe she would respond to this one.

Gabrielle took a moment to steady herself. Then, breathing deeply, she answered, in a trembling voice.

"You.. you were talking to the mirror. I worried about you. I... I didn't see anyone in front of you."

"You, you didn't?". Why couldn't she see them? They were right in front of her. He instinctively turned around to look back at the mirror. His family was still standing there. There were worried smiles on their faces.

"They're... they're right there! Look- he stepped sideways so that she was looking straight into the mirror-, there they are see? They're right there!

The look on her face was confusion, mixed with fear. She continued to look at him instead of the mirror. What was she so confused about? What was the problem?

She shook her head slowly. _No, its not true._

He could feel himself getting angrier and angrier. Why was she in denial? Why was she lying to him?

A voice in his head spoke softly. _That's right, she's lying. Show her you won't fall for it._

He was seized by the the urge to grab her roughly and scream at her until she got on her knees and admitted that she had been lying the whole time. Anger coursed through him as his teeth gnashed together and hands balled into fists. He could hear himself struggling to speak, to make her see how she felt. _He wanted to hurt her._

He was staring at her, and his whole body trembled with rage. And yet for the first time, he suddenly realized, although he was unsure how or what made him feel that way, that she looked so innocent. There was no spite or laughter on her face. She did not seem to enjoy watching him be tortured by her words. Her eyes were wide now, and for some reason, he suddenly found it hard to look her straight into them. But even despite this, he felt sure it was a different emotion on her face, one that he almost could not recognize.

Did she feel sorry for him?

Sorry? What was there to feel sorry about?

 _How dare she_.

He was about to rush at her. His hands were were now unclasped, ready to grab her with all his might, slam her into the glass, make her see the truth. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated her at this point in time.

One step towards her.

Two steps.

She had walked backwards quickly so he needed to make two more.

He was inches from her now.

"No-", he could hear her say. The look in her eyes was nothing but fear now, she was a deer caught in the headlights.

How could she look so innocent?

A feeling of inexpressible shame washed over him and began to mix with his anger. He could not do this. He was thinking of hurting someone who had done no wrong. He barely knew her. If he went any further, he would be a monster.

The last step was slow, and as he placed his hands on her softly, there was pleading in his voice. He slowly, gently led her in front of the ornate glass. She was standing there, looking straight at the space that held his family, his old hopes and dreams. He could see them watch her with apprehensive expressions.

" Please, you can see them them right? They're there. Please tell me they're there."

Her eyes were orbs of blue that stared at him with a look sadness.

"Colin, who do you see in the mirror?" she asked.

The question had a terrible implication to it. She really couldn't see anything.

"My family. Its my mom, dad and brother. Can you see them as well?" He knew the answer to the question, and yet he had to ask.

Suddenly her face changed. At first, it was an expression of curiosity, as her eyebrows furrowed. Then slowly, her hands moved slowly towards the glass, and her expression changed into desire.

She wanted what was in the mirror as well. She ran her hands across the smooth surface,

He did not know what to do. What was happening to her? What was she seeing now? He watched her for some time, transfixed by her face as it stared at whatever was in front of it.

What was going on?

He gave her a soft shake, taking care not to hurt her He felt worry now.

"Hey, are you okay?" He half-shouted.

She gave a start, suddenly removed from her dreamlike state.

"Colin..."

"What is it?" he asked. "What do you see?"

He was surprised by the softness of the hand that clutched his without any warning.

She turned to him, and this time, she was the one pleading again.

"Colin, please, let's get out of here."

"Wha-"

"The mirror. Its, its dangerous. Please Colin. Let's leave this place."

Leave this place? But why?

"What do you mean leave? What did you see?" He was suddenly overcome by his own curiosity. What had she seen?

"I'll tell you later... but please, let's go now.

"What? No, tell me what you saw. What did you see?".

"I.. nobody. I didn't see anybody. Let's just go Colin please."

"I saw that look on your face. You saw something... someone. Who was it? Tell me." Was she just like him? Had they both lost something dear to them?

He suddenly felt shy. What was he doing, intruding upon her like this?

She was not meeting his eyes. Her blue orbs were aimed at the floor, and her head was hung, almost as if she was ashamed of something.

"Did you see your family too? Or someone else? Someone you knew? Someone you want back?"

She looked at him straight in the eyes this time, and tears slowly started falling down on her cheeks. He suddenly felt like he was the one who should be feeling ashamed.

He suddenly backtracked.

"I... I just.. you seemed so... I didn't mean to ask. You don't have to say." he said in a sheepish voice that he felt did not belong to him.

Her reply was sudden.

"This mirror, I know now what it shows us."

"Wait, what?". Was that her answer?

"This mirror-" repeated Gabrielle, "I think it shows what we want the most. And drives us to madness trying to pursue it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You asked if I saw someone in the mirror that I want back. The answer is no. I'm much more selfish than you. There are so many people that I'd like to have back. But I only saw myself in the mirror. Or rather, I only noticed myself. There were other people around me in the image, but i could only focus on myself. They were merely part of the background"

"What do you mean?

She shook her head. In the dim room he could see her tears glisten like jewels.

"I saw myself as an eight year old girl. It was my eightth birthday. I was in a white dress, and I was about to blow the candles of a large birthday cake. My family and friends were surrounding me. But when I looked at it.. I could only see myself. All I could think about was going back to that time. When I was 10 years old again. That's what I miss the most. All I could think about when I was looking at the mirror was to get it back. And I'm sure that if I look into the mirror again, that is all I will be able to see.

Colin felt that he should be able to understand what she was saying, but yet, somehow the meaning of her words eluded him.

Gabrielle gave him a sad smile.

"You don't understand. I know it sounds strange to want your childhood back so badly. It sounds selfish to want to go back to that time and to erase all my experiences since then. All the people I've met and all the friends I've made. But that was before-"

She stopped suddenly. He looked into her eyes,and he saw only yet, yet at the same time she looked so beautiful that it made his chest ache.

"Colin. I don't know why you see what you see. But I know that this mirror is exploiting our weaknesses. It's taking the things that hurt us the most, and it's promising us that all of our sadness will away. But it's lying Colin. I can tell that you've lost people important to you. But this mirror won't change anything Colin. It will drive you mad promising you that you will get back what you've lost. We have to leave this place Colin."

He looked back at the mirror. They were still there. Could he really leave them? Was he, Colin, really going to leave behind everything he had ever wanted? Why did he not drop everything and stare into the Mirror of Erised till days, weeks, maybe even a month passed. Why did he not stare into it forever?

"We have to leave the past Colin. We both have to live. "

The realization hit him suddenly, like a slap to the head.

 _It was almost Christmas._

He had invited his brother, his Curse-Breaker brother, over to his house.

She was right.

* * *

The cold air cut through the night as they slowly made their way through the sidewalk illuminated by streetlights. There is an awkwardness between them, a palpable tension that they both want to remove but are unsure how to do so. Both of them want to speak to break the silence.

He moves first.

"Hey. "

She is surprised but also relieved that he had finally decided to break the ice.

"Yes?" she asks.

"Let's not talk about what happened to anyone else okay?"

She nods her head yes, although she thinks it is strange that he feels the need to tell her this. What good would it do to tell anyone

"Yes. Its our secret"

Secret. They had a secret now.

"Yeah."

They continue walking. A slow steady pace. Not knowing what to say, they chose silence.

They reach the point where their paths diverge.

She is the first one to speak this time.

"So.. you'll be going that way?"

"Yeah." He turns and looks at the long road towards his house.

"Well, see you then Colin."

"Yeah, see you Gabrielle."

They turn towards their respective paths and slowly prepare to walk straight into the dark night towards the comforts of home.

He has to say it. It's been wearing on his mind this whole time.

One step. Two steps.

"Gabrielle!". He calls out to her.

She turns, and looks at him curiously.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I was just wondering... um...". Why was it so hard to ask?

"Yes?",

"Do you... uhh... where are you gonna spend Christmas this year?"

The smile on her face relieves him. He had expected her to find the question strange.

"Well, this year I might spend it with my sister. Why?"

"Uh well... nothing. It's just, if you... you know.. wanted some company... I've only got my brother over... and I was thinking... the more the merrier right.? But its cool that you're gonna spend it with family.

The smile on her face gets bigger. A truly happy smile this time. Her eyes shine.

His chest aches.

"Well, let's see. I would like some more company on that day and well.. my sister does have her family to attend to. I will see if I can take you up on your offer Mr Photographer."

He smiles too, for the first time in what seems like a very long time.

"Great. Don't worry no need to bring food. I'll cook enough for six people."

"Cook? Don't you mean use magic?"

Cheeky.

"No. It tastes better when done like how the Muggles do it. Muggles are better than wizards at cooking."

"I see. Well that certainly sounds interesting."

They smile at each other, both of them still wanting to talk a little bit more but knowing that it can wait until next time.

"Well Gabrielle, see you then"

"See you, Colin."

Somewhere in the distance, a Christmas song began to play.


	14. Help us Saint Nicholas

November 23rd. A Saturday.

It was almost a month until Christmastime, and the second time this year that Colin was visiting his mother.

He was sitting in the waiting area, thinking of things he would have to buy for Christmas. He would have to buy them slightly earlier to avoid the Christmas shopping rush. Cooking was a tedious chore, and the only reasons were the novelty and the fact that it genuinely tasted better to him. Maybe there was something in magic that lowered the quality of the ingredients. Vegetables always seemed to taste better when he was slicing them up himself than when he was charming a kitchen knife to do it. It would be very difficult, and time consuming. It was for this reason that he had set to thinking about it a month before the day itself, even when he was already very busy with his work. He flashed back to what he had said to Gabrielle seen her: I'll cook enough for six people. He had been surprised at himself for making that promise. Cooking was fun, but it wasn't that fun.

He would have to have the basics of a good English Christmas dinner, his french guest notwithstanding. There would have to be turkey, an essential staple of the traditional Christmas meal. Some meat pudding and mashed potatoes. The tiny sausages wrapped in bacon. And maybe a vegetable based dish since it was entirely possible that Gabrielle was a vegetarian. He had to be prepared for everything.

He would also have to prepare the charms he would use on the room to transfigure it into a decent sized living room. He was not good at much magic, but he did graduate second in his house in transfiguration. This would be a difficult piece of magic that required much concentration.

He wondered why he was so nervous at the prospect of cooking dinner for just a few people. After all, it was just three people. There was something about the prospect that made him light headed one moment, and then made his stomach squirm the next. The possibilities played over in his head, the topics slowly shifting from one to another. Which vegetables would he buy? When would he use the transfiguration spells and charm the mistletoe? Was eggnog an absolute must? What would the conversation be like?

His thoughts rested upon this final possibility. Indeed, what would the conversation be like? What did an angelic girl, a scrawny wedding photographer, and a Gringotts Witch Breaker talk about on Christmas Eve? They were like the set-up to one of Ron Weasley's awful jokes.

He had finally put his finger on what made his stomach squirm so much. It was awkward. The three of them were an awkward group Dennis would probably use this as an opportunity to tease him, or Merlin forbid, try to set them up together. Gabrielle would probably be put off by the fact that she was spending Christmas with two testosterone laden men who she barely knew. And he would be in the middle of all this this, feeling awkward.

Maybe there was a charm on how to increase the alcohol content of the eggnog. They would certainly need it on Christmas Eve.

The words of the nurse brought him out of his reverie.

"She's lucid. She says she wants to speak to you."

* * *

The room was filled with strange women. Not in a good way, like wizards. Many of them stared at him with hollow, almost unseeing, eyes. Some of them were watching a program from a television that blared in the corner, their eyes glued to the screen. It appeared to be late night talk show program, but none of the viewers were laughing. One woman, who seemed to look both old and young at the same time, stared out of a dirty window at the sky, her fingers tapping restlessly. Some were quietly staring at their hands, while others talked loudly and aggressively, often to no one in particular.

The composition of the room could not be more mixed, with some women looking like they were in their early 20s, and others looking like they were in their 50s. Even in this mess of people, Colin could see that there was an empty look in their eyes, as if only half of their mind was really present. Their faces were all dirty, and there was an unhealthy tinge to their skin.

He looked to the middle of the room, and saw his mother there sitting in front of a small table. Her hands were clasped together, and the focus on her face was strangely amplified by her staring companions. She looked nervous, fidgeting in a way he had never seen before, yet never taking her eyes off him. It was such a strange background to what would be their first conversation in a long while; this unruly horde of women going about their business without a care in the world.

Rose Creevey had lost all her beauty. She was still young, in her mid-forties, and yet she looked much older. There were pronounced wrinkles on her face, and her previously bright angel-white skin had now strangely dull. There was acne all over it, also marks that looked like they came from bites and scratches. Her lips, which used to be so red and full, were now pale and thin. Her eyes now had dark bags under them, as if she had not slept for days. She had almost the same unhealthy look as the other patients, although her posture and demeanor was much more lucid and aware. Her hair, which used to be so straight, was frayed and messy, adding to her disorganized look.

Even considering all this, she still looked to be in much better condition than the other patients.

He walked slowly, pensively, feeling his way through every step. What would he say when he got to her. Would it be just like the good old times? What would he call her? What would she call him?

He got to the final step, and before he sat down in the chair prepared for him, he managed to blurt that one word out, against all odds:

"Ma."

Her posture relaxed, and her she stopped fidgeting, but the nervous look on her face remained. She made an unintelligible motion, her hands twisting around, until she extended it towards the chair in front of them.

Rose Creevey spoke in a croaky, hoarse voice.

"Sit, please."

He sat down, slowly. He suddenly found himself wondering whether this was really happening. He knew it would come. Yet speaking to her still felt so strange.

"I..." he began. He suddenly found that he had many things to say, and no idea how to say them.

His mother opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

They stayed there in that position for a long moment, both of them wanting to speak but too overwhelmed by the moment.

Then suddenly, Fate (or was it magic?), intervened.

Colin managed to choke out the words: "Hey Ma."

Two words this time. Not much better, but it was a start.

It was time to speak for Rose Creevey. She seemed to take a moment to steel herself, answered:

"Colin."

They were making progress now. He decided to take the lead. It would make all of this easier.

"I've gone here 3 or four times now. Wasn't able to talk to you. I even sent you some pictures of my recent work. Did you get them?"

There was a pause. He felt a cold draft in the room that had nothing to do with the weather outside.

"Yeah." answered his mother. It sounded like she was forcing her tone to be neutral.

"How have you been doing lately?" asked Colin

"I'm okay. Still here I guess. Dennis visited me a few times."

"I knew that." Colin thought privately to himself

He glanced around, unable to look her in the eye. He wondered if he preferred talking to the image in the Mirror of Erised. The image was younger, healthier, easier to look at and to speak to. It was his mother during her best days. He could not help thinking that it was easier to speak to it than the person sitting in front of him. The person in front was a container of memories which he did not want to remember. Now that she was in front of him, and even now that they could barely look each other in the eyes, those memories resurfaced. They came one after the other. The screaming. The insults. The insinuations that he was useless. The forgotten birthdays.

Had she ever hit him? Slapped him maybe. He did not remember. Maybe there was this one time he had answered back.

Was that why he had dreamed of her as a monster?

It was a strange time for the mother and her son; they both felt like they were talking to a complete stranger.

It was at this time that Rose Creevey chose to speak. She had long felt like there was something she had to say. It was not a statement. She had already said so many things, and she did not know whether Colin would believe anything she said anymore. This time, she wanted to ask a question.

"Do you hate me?."

It was a simple question, humbly composed. It could have been asked by anyone. She did not want to talk to him as a mother would. She did not know if he thought of her as a mother anymore.

Colin stared at her. He was surprised at her being so direct. A mix of emotions flooded him. First there was relief, coming from the fact that she had voiced out the question that was in the back of his mind that whole time. Yet he also felt worried and confused, Did he really hate her? Was there reason to hate her? Did hating his mom make him a bad son? Or maybe even a bad person in general?

Did he really want to answer this question?

His eyes from the ceiling to the corners of the room. He knew it was rude, but he could not look into his mother's eyes while her told her this.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the women, who had been staring out of the window throughout their whole conversation, begin swaying in her in a strange rhythm-less manner. Her fingers continued to tap.

It was one of those Christmas songs that often played in supermarkets, in the lead up to Christmas. The Ministry of Magic and the Muggle governments both seemed to agree that playing these songs in shops a month before Christmas would lead to more buyers. This was a slow, rather sleepy song. It was strange to see the woman moving her head so enthusiastically to such phlegmatic music. The voice was that of a woman. and it was smooth and warm at the same time. The accent was more American than British. He could make out a few lyrics as she began to go from the bridge to the chorus,. As far as he could tell, the song seemed to be about a Christmas tree:

 _I'll bring my boy a toy_

 _He'll jump for joy_

 _To see his bright new queen_

 _With me you will go far_

 _Let's show St. Nick_

 _The tree you really are_

 _And there'll be peace of earth_

 _When Mommy lights your star_

 _My little Christmas tree_

Rose Creevey listened to the song as it slowly filled the room. The woman had a sweet, soothing voice that suited the song's gentle rhythms. It made her think of a mother holding her sleeping child in her arms.

Memories of the a few Christmases past flooded her mind, and for a while, both of them were in reverie while sitting opposite each other. She remembered herself singing a lullaby while tucking him in, then kissing him on the cheek before leaving the room to spend Christmas eve with their friends. During his fifth one, he had seemed so pleased as he placed the angel on top of the small tree that they had bought. She remembered him helping with the cooking when he was 10. He had always enjoyed cooking.

She suddenly realized that she did not want him to answer her question anymore.

"Colin," -

Colin looked up at her

"Where are you spending Christmas this year?", she asked.

He felt relieved, as if a weight was taken off his chest. He wasn't ready to talk about it yet. The question he was asked, however, told him that they would have time.

"Just at my place." he replied.

"Are you spending it with your brother, or with your friends?"

"Both, I guess. I'd like that."

A thought came to his head. He wanted to ask her the same question she had asked him, but he felt as if he knew the answer. He decided to say something else.

"Maybe I'll visit you, on the 25th or something. Send you some pics again."

"That's good." she replied.

A feeling of lightness came over Rose Creevey. Her sons were still visiting her, and they still talked to each other. Maybe there was still hope for the three of them.

For the first time in a long time, she smiled weakly at her son. She saw the look of surprise on his face, then received her only Christmas gift that year.

His lips curved slightly upwards. He smiled back.

A new song was beginning to play.

* * *

Gabrielle laughed as she tickled little Victoire. The baby was growing fast, but she had lost none of her appetite for playing and horsing around.

"Mommy!" cried the girl.

"Yes dear?" replied Fleur Weasley, who was busy sweeping the floor.

" Will Auntie Gabby be spending Christmas here?"

"Yes sweetie she is."

Little Victoire whooped happily.

"She seems to like you." said Fleur to Gabrielle.

Gabrielle smiled back.

"Who else is spending Christmas here?". she asked Fleur

"Oh well, us, you, and a few other friends from Gringotts."

"Oh, there will be others?"

"Why yes Gabbi, why do you ask? Is there someone in particular that you are interested to meet?" teased Fleur.

"No one sister."

"Oh.. You're so choosy Gabrielle."

"I'm not choosy. Anyway..."

"Yes?"

Gabrielle wracked her brains for a way to explain Colin's invitation to her sister without getting teased. She wanted to spend time with her sister this Christmas, and yet she did not want to waste his invitation. It wasn't nice to disappoint a friend.

"Well, there's this person who's uh..."

She did not want to say that Colin had invited her to spend Christmas Eve at his house. That would sound strange.

"Is there a person who invited you over on Christmas Eve?", asked Fleur.

Had her sister been studying Occlumency?

"Well..." began Gabrielle lamely.

"Yes?"

"Well, he's a nice friend that I made." she finished.

"He?"

"Yes. Its a boy."

The smile on Fleur's face was a little too knowing.

"But, we're not anything. We're just friends! And he said he would cook a lot of food!" she said defensively.

Fleur laughed.

"Okay, sister. I understand. It would be a shame to disappoint this friend of yours with your absence. However, it would be a shame to not have you around for Christmas. Why don't you just invite him over to our house? He can bring his cooking as well."

Gabrielle was surprised. Why hadn't she thought of that?

"I'll tell him immediately."


End file.
